Child of the Storm
by Nimbus Llewelyn
Summary: New Mexico was not the first time Thor had been a mortal. It was only a refinement of the technique. What if James Potter had been Thor, incarnated as a memoryless newborn? On his death, Odin removed his memories as James, due to grief. In Harry's Third Year, a reformed Loki restores them. Harry now has a father, a family and a heritage that is going to change the world. Forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Child of the Storm**

**What if Thor had spent some time on earth before, and become James Potter? What if he had had a child, but forgotten about him – and indeed his past life as James Potter - on his return to Asgard? Meanwhile, a thirteen year old Harry Potter is caught in a storm. Set some time after the Avengers and features a redeemed Loki.**

**It'll start movieverse for the Avengers, but more and more elements of the comics will sneak in over time. For instance, Spiderman, who is, age wise, Harry's contemporary, will appear.**

**I own nothing you recognise. This is only partially betaed, but what betaing has been done has been done by the awesome FaceChanger, who has an amazing talent for both putting up with my numerous flaws and telling me when I'm going wrong.**

Just a little higher, Harry thought whilst chasing the snitch, as the storm grew around him. The golden darting object was just a few feet away. Then he felt a bone deep coldness settle on him. The rain nearby was freezing into droplets of ice, pelting him. For once, he was glad for his glasses. He looked around. Dozens of Dementors were all around him. As they drew closer, he began to hear things.

_Stand aside, you foolish girl!_

_No, please, not Harry!_

_AVADA KEDAVRA!_

It was at that point that his grip on his broom failed. He fell. And as he did, his mind and magic screamed one thing: _Help me!_

In Asgard, Loki sat bolt upright in his bed as he heard the cry from the child. A child that he realised was his _nephew_, and ran to Thor's chambers. Absently, he noted that the cry had come from a child who looked rather similar to himself. He had known this would come back to haunt them.

"Thor!" he yelled.

"What is it brother?" Thor said groggily, Jane struggling to sit up next to him.

"Your son," Loki said, and smirked as Thor bolted upright.

"What? Is this one of your tricks?" Thor asked suspiciously. Though Loki had found his way back to sanity and now sought to redress the wrongs he had done, he was still as much of a prankster as ever.

Loki rolled his eyes and crossed to Thor's side. "No. I have no time to explain, so we'll have to do this the hard way. My lady Jane, you might want to get out of the way. If what I suspect is correct – as it usually is – then there is a rather impressive memory block on my brother. Releasing it so violently could lead to flailing." Jane immediately slipped out of the bed, wearing only a small shirt and shorts. Loki smiled slightly. There were many reasons for him to like Jane Foster. One was that she kept his brother on a leash, another was that she was very attractive and yet another was that she didn't ask stupid questions.

Loki pressed his hands to his brother's temples, then began muttering. Suddenly, Thor's eyes went wide, he spasmed several times and he scrambled out of bed, grabbing Mjolnir.

"What is wrong with my son?" he demanded, armour forming.

"Thor, what's going on?" Jane asked, frowning.

Thor opened his mouth, before Loki cut across him. "Thor, your son is being chased by Dementors. I'll explain. You would only make it worse. Now GO!"

Thor nodded, eyes wide with fear and fury, and raced out of the room.

"Now my lady," Loki said, sitting down on Thor's bed. "You had best join me in sitting down. And I shall explain some things about Thor's past, when he was rendered human before. When he was rendered into a man called James Potter. And it is not a short tale."

**Sometime later, still in Asgard:**

"So, James tended to act like a combination of you and Thor because of his unconscious memories, and Odin wiped Thor's memory to stop him going mad with grief and smiting most of Magical Britain," Jane said. Another reason Loki liked her was she actually thought about things.

"He did," Loki said. "Which led to the later incident involving my mad plan to keep Thor off the throne and obliterate the Frost Giants," he added, looking somewhat pained, and Jane had rubbed his arm comfortingly.

"But doesn't Thor now look rather different to James Potter?" Jane asked.

"Indeed he does, which is why I put an enchantment on him, that allows him to shift between his normal appearance and that of James Potter at will," Loki said. "It should save my brother from trying to explain a lot of things. Which he is bad at."

**Earlier, several miles above Scotland:**

Thor had dived through the Tesseract powered Bifrost portal, relying on the machines magical origins to read his mind and direct him to the correct destination. And it did, pointing him straight towards a black haired speck that was falling towards the ground. Thor raced after him, frantically pouring on as much speed as he could. As he did so, he absently noticed that he now had the appearance of James Potter once more, courtesy of Loki.

A couple of moments later, he closed on his son, and grabbed him out of the air. Hovering, he thrust Mjolnir upwards, and channelled the fury at his son's predicament and the loss of Lily at the Dementors.

There was a warning rumble, then a blinding flash as hundreds of bolts of lightning struck the Dementors, causing them to let out unearthly howls and forcing them to flee. He glared after them. They could be dealt with later. What was more important right now was his son, who was lying unconscious in his arms as they both descended to the ground.

Harry had grown a lot since he'd last held him, Thor thought. Age had only cemented his resemblance to his father, though there were subtle shades of Lily in there. In the background he could hear the crowd cheering, - that certainly brought back memories - and the commentator was saying, '_And Harry Potter has been caught in mid-air by someone who I am told vastly resembles his father, James Potter, who is flying WITHOUT a broom! And summoning lightning bolts. This is officially the weirdest Quidditch match I have _ever_ seen.'_

"James?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Hello Professor," Thor said, grinning and letting his memories of James Potter take over.

"How?" Dumbledore asked, looking half relieved, half suspicious. Thor couldn't really blame him.

"The Wizarding World knew me as James Potter," Thor replied, letting his normal appearance shine through. "The mortal world and the rest of the nine realms know me as Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder and one of the Avengers."

"Good god," McGonagall said faintly.

"You called?" Thor asked, grinning, and McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"Definitely James," she murmured.

"I think, James – do you prefer James, or Thor?" Dumbledore asked.

"Stick with James," Thor said, switching back to his James Potter face.

"Very well, James. I think we need to talk," Dumbledore said. "Inside. Though I would be grateful if you could stop this storm."

Thor looked up at the storm, and whirled his hammer once. The storm petered out into nothingness in a matter of moments, and Thor looked smug. On James Potter's face, it was a very natural expression.

"Is that Snivellus I see up there?" he said, looking over Dumbledore's shoulder at a shocked looking Snape.

"_Professor_ Snape, James, he teaches Potions now," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "Your son's almost as bad. He just calls him Snape."

Thor looked down at his unconscious son. "He has potential," he said solemnly. "Now, I think we should get inside."

As he said that, the Hufflepuff seeker flew down and landed beside them, the Snitch in his hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see the Dementors," he gabbled in a rush. "It wasn't fair, we should replay the match Professor."

"I'm sorry Mr Diggory, but once the Snitch is caught, the match is over," Dumbledore said.

The young man sagged, then sighed. "Oh well." Then he turned to Thor.

"Mr Potter? My father spoke very well of you," he said, remarkably calm about seeing someone who was supposed to have been dead for the last twelve years, holding out the Snitch, which Thor took.

"You're Amos Diggory's son, aren't you?" he said.

"The very same, Mr Potter. I'm Cedric," Cedric said. "Give this to Harry when he wakes up. It's his by all rights."

Thor looked at him and smiled. "Your father is a good man. And so are you. But I think there is every chance you would have caught the Snitch yourself. Even if you hadn't, you flew through one of the nastiest storms I have seen for a while. And believe me when I say that I know storms." McGonagall snorted as Thor handed the Snitch back, placing it in Cedric's palm and folding Cedric's fingers over it. The Hufflepuff blinked in surprise, then nodded.

"Thank you, Mr Potter."

When Harry woke up, Ron and Hermione were at his bedside. And so was the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, including a bedraggled looking Oliver Wood.

"Hey guys," he said. "What did I miss?"

"Hey Harry," the group chorused, then all turned as one to Hermione, who looked a little nervous.

"Harry, we have some good news, and some bad news. The bad news is that after you fell off your broom, it hit the Whomping Willow. I'm sorry," Hermione said, unrolling the bundles she had been carrying.

"And the good news?" Harry asked, holding back tears. The Nimbus had been part of him.

"What do you remember?" Hermione asked.

Harry sighed. "I remember the Dementors, I remember falling off my broom, then someone with dark hair and brown eyes catching me. I'm not sure if that was real, though. Then nothing."

"The dark haired man was real, Harry. He is… there's no easy way to say this. He's your father, Harry. And his real name is… Thor," Hermione said slowly.

Harry blinked. Then blinked again.

"I am going to wake up in a minute, find myself in my bed in Gryffindor tower, and dismiss this as a _really_ weird dream, or some kind of illusion," Harry said in a leaden voice.

"I would be most disappointed to find out that I was an illusion and unaware of it, since I am myself a master illusionist," a tall dark haired man said, walking into Harry's field of vision and sounding amused. He looked rather, but not exactly, like pictures Harry had seen of James, almost like he was a brother. More to the point, however, he'd seen him on television and in the newspapers. It couldn't be… "Hello Harry. I'm your Uncle Loki." It was.

Everyone's jaw dropped, and Fred and George dropped to their knees.

"The Norse God of Mischief!" Fred said, sounding awed.

"Pranks!" George added.

"Magic!" Fred said.

"And Chaos!" George said.

"Teach us, we beg you, o master!" both finished at exactly the same time.

Loki looked rather pleased. "Oh get up, you two, I don't need abasement," he said, smiling in a somewhat self deprecating fashion. "As for your request… well it has been rather some time since I took on an apprentice, and I would rather like to teach my nephew… nevertheless, I have had as many as four apprentices before, even if Thor mostly taught Godric," Loki said, mulling it over.

Then he nodded decisively. "I suppose I could teach you both. I can feel that the talent for mischief is strong in you. It matches that of James Potter and his friends, and they were the strongest I've seen in centuries."

Fred and George looked like they were about to pass out from joy.

"Thank you, master," they said, bowing.

"Please, just call me Loki. That goes for all of you. Except for Harry, who, if he so wishes, may call me Uncle," Loki said.

"Assuming this is real, I'd like that. Uncle," Harry said, mind a whirl.

"Excellent, nephew," Loki said, beaming. "Now, I'd better go fetch your father. As far as I can tell, he's stopped trying to smite Dumbledore for leaving you with the Dursley's, and now Dumbledore is trying to prevent him from smiting the Dursley's. I'm not sure how successful this is going to be."

As he turned to go, Hermione looked like she had had an idea. "Wait! Mr Loki, I've got an idea." She turned to Harry. "You said that the Dursley's care about their reputation as a normal, well off and well to do family?"

Harry nodded.

She turned to Loki. "And Thor is one of the Avengers, right?"

Loki nodded, then began to grin as he caught on.

"I'm sure Tony Stark could manage to destroy them. Or if he couldn't, SHIELD could. Without leaving a single mark," Hermione said, grinning. Everyone in the room was looking at her with mingled fear, awe, and in the case of Loki, pride.

"Oh I _like _this one," he said with a smirk. "You have a remarkably sharp mind, Miss…"

"Granger. Hermione Granger," Hermione replied.

"Miss Granger, you can consider yourself my fourth apprentice. Stark would do it for Thor, or indeed, even for the fun of it," Loki said, turning to go. Hermione looked like she was about to pass out. It was not every day one got offered an apprenticeship with the Asgardian God of Magic.

Ron suddenly looked puzzled as Loki left.

"Did he say one of his former apprentices was called Godric? And that he had four?" Ron asked. Everyone's jaw dropped even further as this sunk in. Except Harry who looked blank and lay back down.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you all right?"

"Hermione. I have just discovered that not only is my father alive, but he is also the Norse God of Thunder and a superhero. And my uncle is a redeemed super villain and the Norse Trickster God who taught the founders and has now taken myself, Fred, George and you on as his apprentices. I'm having just a _little_ trouble taking it all in," Harry said flatly.

"Your dad's a great guy," Ron said. "Oliver was trying to drown himself in the sink and your dad dragged him away from the sink and told him that even the best captain can't predict the intervention of Dementors and an enormous storm. And that a good captain should be waiting by his seeker's bed, not trying to drown himself."

Oliver nodded. "He was pretty emphatic on that part."

"Can you just tell me what happened before I got here?" Harry interjected.

"Well," Hermione said. "Dementors were flying up into the storm – towards you – and suddenly, you fell. Then, the sky darkened, and the storm got even bigger as something – your father - shot towards you."

"I've never seen anyone fly so fast," Ron said in awe. "Not even a Firebolt could have kept up!"

"Yes Ron," Hermione said, slightly irritated at being interrupted. "Anyway, he caught you maybe a hundred feet off the ground, and hovered. And then he raised his hammer, and lightning struck the Dementors. All of them at once! After that, he landed, talked to Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and the Hufflepuff Seeker, then took you inside to the hospital wing."

Harry nodded slowly, processing all of this.

"So where is he now?"

"The Headmaster's office."

Loki strode towards the Headmasters office. The gargoyle looked at him, realised who he was, and moved respectfully out of the way. It had been there since Hogwarts had first been built, and recognised the god of magic on sight.

"Thank you," Loki said politely as he reached the moving spiral staircase.

"Not a problem," was the (literally) gravelly reply.

As the stairs carried him up, he heard Thor loudly saying that he would beat the Dursleys to a pulp and feed them to Fenris, after tying them up with their own intestines.

"Brother," Loki sighed. "Calm down."

"Loki?" Thor said in surprise, still wearing his James Potter face. "Jane…"

"Is fine. She's a little unbalanced by it all, but she's dealing with it," Loki said.

"Jane?" Albus asked.

"Jane Foster, she's –" Thor began.

"An astrophysicist, creator of the Foster theory and the chief mind behind the New Bifrost," Albus said. "I have heard of her. She's a rather remarkable young woman. I take it that sometime after Lily's death and your father's memory charm, you fell in love once more."

"Yes," Thor said. "I did. And… I am confused."

"Tell us something new," Loki murmured dryly, and Albus' lips twitched.

"This is serious brother," Thor said, and his quiet, steely tone caught Loki's immediate attention. "It hurts. For me, it is only a couple of days since I lost my beloved wife. And now I love another woman. My feelings are genuine but…" Thor's face crumpled. "I don't know what to do, what to think, what to say. It _hurts_," he said in a small, childlike voice. Loki sat down beside him and hugged him. As James Potter, Thor and Loki were of a size, Loki being slightly larger.

"I know, brother," Loki said gently. "It is not wrong for you to feel this way. In fact, I would be astonished and somewhat worried if you did not."

"That's comforting," Thor said dryly.

"Your son is awake by the way, and adjusting to having his father back. I've taken him, a friend of his called Hermione Granger and a pair of red headed twins on as apprentices. The twins have a palpable talent for mischief, and Miss Granger shows potential," Loki said.

"I must confess that I am a little surprised that you would consider Miss Granger as a potential mischief maker," Dumbledore said. "She is remarkably clever, but rather fond of rules. Within reason."

"She also suggested a fitting punishment for Harry's erstwhile guardians," Loki said. "Harry said that they are rather fond of their reputation as a prosperous, normal, well to do family and if _someone _went out of their way to air their dirty laundry to the world…" he trailed off, as Thor grinned a truly wicked grin that was pure James Potter.

"Tony. Of _course_," he said in a predatory voice. "My son has chosen good friends."

"There is another thing," Dumbledore said quietly. "Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban. We believe he is after Harry."

"Sirius?" Thor said, puzzled. "Why would he be in Azkaban?"

"He betrayed you and Lily, James," Dumbledore said, some confusion of his own in his voice. "Peter went to confront him, but against Sirius he didn't stand a chance. Sirius blew up the street and Peter with it."

Thor stared at him in shock.

"I am sorry, James. Peter received the Order of Merlin First Class posthumously –"

"Peter was our secret keeper," Thor said flatly, stopping Dumbledore dead.

"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore said in puzzlement.

"Peter was our secret keeper. We knew that everyone would assume it was Sirius, so we picked Peter. AND THE LITTLE RAT BETRAYED US!" Thor roared. "Did Sirius even get a trial?" he snarled.

"I believe he did," Dumbledore said, frowning. "The days after Lily and your death were rather fraught, and I barely had any time to think about Sirius. I always assumed Bartemius gave him a trial."

"Well obviously he didn't," Thor snarled. "If I see Crouch, I'm going to kill him." He looked over at Loki. "Brother, I need one of your tracking spells immediately."

Suddenly, the office door opened and Lupin walked in. "You wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore?" he asked. Dumbledore had called him by Floo, where he'd been on business. He'd been rather annoyed that said business was causing him to miss his friends' son's Quidditch match, but some things couldn't be helped.

He stopped. James. His eyes widened, and then narrowed. It couldn't be James. James was dead. His wand blurred.

"Who dares use that face?" he snarled.

"Put the wand down, Moony, before I tell Professor Dumbledore what you were doing with Marlene McKinnon in the closet on the fifth floor, Christmas Sixth Year," then man who looked like James replied.

Remus' eyes widened again. "What were you going to call your first girl?" he asked quietly.

"Eleanor," James replied, equally quietly.

Remus sheathed his wand. "Where have you been?" he demanded.

James' body shifted. Instead of lean, dark haired, hazel eyed James Potter, a tall, powerfully muscled man with hair that flowed to his shoulders and bright blue eyes stood before him. "My birth name is Thor Odinson," a voice that was slightly different – maybe a slightly more formal lilt, an indefinable accent – said. "I was incarnated on Earth as James Potter to teach me humility. A memoryless child, born to loving parents. Father has always looked after us both, even when punishing us," Thor said, a wry smile, looking at Loki, who affectionately rolled his eyes.

"I lived my life. I met you, Sirius and Peter. I had friends. I loved Lily. I loved Harry. And when Voldemort killed me, my spirit, with full knowledge of who and what I was, could do nothing but watch in horror as my wife died. When I woke up in Asgard, I went mad with grief. Father removed my memories. I reverted to how I had been before I was born as James Potter. I never came down to Midgard because I had no reason to." He looked sorrowful and shifted back to his James Potter form. "I should have been there for Harry."

"Why did you come now?" Remus asked, curious.

"You can thank my brother for that," Thor said, nodding to Loki, who bowed.

"Brother?" Remus said, then his eyes widened. "Loki?!"

"At your service," Loki said, looking slightly smug.

"We built a shrine to you in fourth year," Remus blurted, before covering his mouth.

Loki was grinning like the Cheshire cat. It was, Remus thought, quite possible that he actually had _been_ the Cheshire cat. "A shrine? Why, brother, I never knew you _cared_ so much," he said, voice dripping with utter glee.

James glowered at him. It was a quintessential James Potter glower, the one he had always got after he got embarrassed – usually by Lily. "Thanks Moony. He's going to spend the next three centuries ribbing me about this."

"Oh, not three centuries… two should be sufficient, my _faithful_ worshipper," Loki said cheerfully.

James growled. It was, Remus remembered, the same sort of noise he'd made after Sirius had made one joke about Lily too many. His face darkened with anger and regret, as it always did when he thought of Sirius.

"James, I'm sorry I didn't take Harry in, but with my circumstances," he began. James rolled his eyes and pulled him into a hug.

"Relax, Moony, I know. And I hear that you're one of Harry's favourite teachers. And I will be going to teach the Dursley's a lesson in due course. First, I need to find Sirius. And Peter."

Remus sighed. "James," he said. "Peter is –"

"A living, traitorous rat bastard who I will kill very slowly indeed," James said flatly without missing a beat. Remus was non-plussed. "Padfoot was never our secret keeper. We wanted it to be him, but he suggested Peter. So I'm going to find my son's godfather and the man who singlehandedly ruined my life and give them what they deserve."

"Don't you think you should meet your son first?" Loki interjected. "He will be just as disorientated by this as you are."

James blinked. "Good point."

"Someone needs to do the thinking, as you clearly don't," Loki murmured.

"Suddenly I understand why you,I and Sirius clicked," Remus observed. "Loki's like a cross between I and Sirius. Short Sirius' lecherous tendencies."

Loki eyed him speculatively, and glanced at James. "He has a point. I did look in on you every now and then."

"Really?" James asked curiously.

"What kind of brother do you take me for?"

"A very long lived one who has slept through entire decades?"

"That was one time!"

"What did you do, then?"

"You remember the time that that Snape creature spent a month in pink and purple tutu and his hair had been washed and there were sparkles in it?" Loki asked. "That was me."

"How could I forget?" James asked, looking like he was reliving a happy memory. He then shot his brother a mild glare. "You would not believe the ticking off Lily gave me for that."

Remus too, remembered that incident. It had been a happy time.

"I probably wouldn't," Loki said. "Now, _you_ need to go and talk to your son."

James took a breath and nodded. He looked, Remus reflected, more frightened than he'd ever seen him, save for Harry's birth. And that particular incident might have had more to do with Lily's blood curdling screams mid labour and her inventive threats – mostly based on horrible things being done to James' testicles if he _ever _touched her again – than with anything else.

**I know, I'm starting another epic. And this one is going to be a series, anywhere but 4 and 7 epic length fics. This is going to become my one of two flagship series, alongside the Shadowsverse (HP/LOTR. The first is 'The Wizard in the Shadows', if you're interested). The good news is that I have the main outline of this fic written up, with the final scene done. It totals 56,500 words so far, and there are sequels. The bad news is that I have exams and real life to contend with, as well as other works in progress.**


	2. Chapter 2: Confrontations and Reunions

**In which Harry and Thor meet, more of Loki's past is revealed, some of Odin's plans for James/Thor prior to the attack on Halloween are revealed, the Weasley Twins that Harry's family are just about the best thing since sliced bread, Thor has a long overdue talk with Snape – not one for the Snape fans – and Loki is confronted several students who lost people when he attacked New York.**

Harry looked up as he heard footsteps. In a heartbeat, he realised just why everyone said he looked like his father. Looking at James Potter, God of Thunder, was like looking at an older, dark eyed version of himself. He also looked rather nervous as he came to sit down beside Harry's bed, running a hand through his hair distractedly. Harry watched as his eyes ran up and down Harry's body, focused first on his face, then on his eyes. He sighed, and smiled crookedly. "Long time no see, son," he said quietly.

Harry glared at him for a long moment, then said what he'd been wanting to say ever since he'd found out his father was alive. "Where the bloody hell have you been?" he snarled.

James jerked back like he'd been slapped, then replied evenly, "I was incarnated as James Potter by my father, as a lesson in humility. I had no memories of my past life. Then, when I was murdered, I witnessed your mother's death as a spirit." Pain filled his eyes and he closed them briefly. "I then returned to Asgard. I returned to my original form. And I went mad. Mad with grief and rage. None could stop, none could hold me. Even mighty Heimdall could not restrain me in my madness. But my father could. He removed my memories of my life as James Potter."

"So why did you come now?" Harry asked, voice quieter.

"When the Dementors closed in on you, you sent out a subconscious mystical distress call," James replied. "Loki picked up on it, and broke the memory enchantment on me. I came down as fast as I could."

Harry digested this information. He looked thoughtful. "So… why don't you look like you do on TV?" he asked eventually.

James chuckled, and shifted shape. The chair creaked slightly under his newly enhanced form.

Harry smirked. "Someone needs to go on a diet."

"You take more after my brother than is strictly healthy," James grumbled good naturedly, shifting back.

"Let's just hope I inherited the mischief making rather than the megalomaniacal tendencies," Harry said dryly.

James stared at him. "You used a word with seven syllables in it," he said, shocked.

"I hang around with the smartest witch in the year," Harry said, shrugging. "Some of it was bound to rub off."

"And your mother was top of her year," James said. "Please tell me you break the rules," he begged, eyes wide. "Please tell me my son isn't a goodie-goodie?"

"… um, a bit?" Harry ventured. "Does sneaking past traps set up by all the Professor's to get to the Philosopher's stone count? And brewing polyjuice potion in a bathroom and sneaking into the Slytherin common room? And sneaking out at night with your invisibility cloak?"

James looked immensely proud. "Yes it does," he said grinning. Then he sobered and looked stern. "I hear that you are less than respectful to Professor Snape, and often refer to him as Snape."

Harry opened his mouth to angrily retort, then saw the twinkle in his father's eyes. His dad was _teasing _him. He couldn't help but get a warm feeling when he realised that.

"I can only say one thing to such behaviour," James continued solemnly, lips twitching in the beginnings of a grin. "Carry right on with my full blessing."

"Thanks… dad," Harry said, testing out the new word. He'd never really used it before. He looked at his dad, then reached out and hugged him. His dad stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug. For the first time since he was just over a year old, Harry relaxed in the reliable strength of his father's arms, letting himself be gently rocked back and forth. Most teenage boys would have found this awkward. At best. But Harry was not most teenage boys. A love starved orphan, he was going to latch onto whatever love he could get.

Madame Pomfrey walked in, and stopped, smiling at the father and son. The two were nigh identical – if one discounted the difference between hospital slacks and strange, otherworldly armour – in both appearance and their apparent need to be close to one another.

Her heart melted as Harry made a probably unconscious noise that she would normally expect from a much younger child, burrowing his face into his father's shoulder, while his father rubbed his back and hushed him gently. Both were crying, eyes shut. She'd once heard a muggle describe this sort of moment as a Kodak moment. Once she'd had it explained to her what this meant, she thought it suited very nicely.

She heard the hospital wing open, and Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and the Weasley twins walked in. Hermione looked like she was restraining the urge to go 'Aw'. Ron opened his mouth, which was promptly covered by a hand from each twin. Madame Pomfrey caught their eyes and nodded towards the door. Ron looked like he was about to protest, until Hermione hissed something in his ear that ended in 'insensitive berk' and dragged him out by the ear.

A few minutes later, Loki slipped in, paused, and smiled. Silently, he sat down and apparently set himself up as a watchman, keeping a vigilant eye on his surroundings. He glanced at Madame Pomfrey, and winked slyly, before his green eyes, a slightly darker shade than Harry's, continued to rove around the room. Harry had clearly drifted off to sleep, comfortably ensconced on his father's shoulder. She walked over, careful to be quiet. "If you want to take him into your lap, James, that would be fine."

James, or Thor, as he technically was – now wasn't that a turn up for the books – blinked, then gave her the same stunning smile that she remembered so well from his Hogwarts days. "Thanks," he whispered, and gently, tenderly, lifted his son onto his lap. Harry didn't even stir. The poor boy must have been rather overwhelmed by it all. She watched as James shut his eyes and let his head nod, holding Harry against his chest. She glanced at Loki, who gave her a single, approving nod.

Eventually, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape walked in. On seeing the sight of the two cuddling, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall smiled. McGonagall even wiped away a couple of tears. Snape on the other hand, was a different story. First, for a long, long moment, there was grief, pain, wistfulness and a thousand other emotions mixed in. Then he sneered, and opened his mouth. As he did, Loki appeared in front of him, eyes as cold as an arctic winter. His entire demeanour said, 'what you are about to do is going to piss me off. You piss me off at your peril. I suggest you rethink what you are about to do'.

Snape wisely shut his mouth. Loki promptly ignored him, casting a silence bubble. He smiled. "Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, it is nice to see you," he said warmly. His expression cooled as he glanced briefly at Snape. "As you can see, my brother and his son are asleep. I would appreciate if they were not disturbed."

Dumbledore's lips twitched. "We intended nothing of the kind," he said, eyes hardening as he glanced at Snape, who took the hint.

"Indeed not," he drawled, casting a wary look at Loki, who nodded absently.

"Yes, we rather decided against after we heard Miss Granger quite emphatically telling off Ronald Weasley for nearly interrupting them. No malice was, as ever, intended on the part of Mister Weasley, but as ever he has a remarkable ability not to think before he speaks," McGonagall said, lips twitching in amusement.

Loki chuckled softly. "He sounds like Fandral, or indeed, Thor himself. I suspect James had similar tendencies."

"Where Lily was concerned, most certainly," Dumbledore said.

Loki sobered. "Yes, Lily." He sighed. "I was going to visit them, you know, a week after Halloween. The attack put paid to that. The plan was that we were slowly going introduce James to his Asgardian heritage, and slowly bring back the memories – but to bolster his identity as James, not overwhelm it. Eventually, he would be taken to Asgard along with Lily, where Harry would, in part, have been raised, alongside any siblings he had in full knowledge of who he was. Lily would have been given the chance to take the trials of Asgard and become an Asgardian. I am confident that she would have done, and certain that she would have passed." He sighed. "I watched them, every now and then. She was an excellent match for my brother, a clever, brave and kind woman and an excellent mother. She would have made a magnificent Queen of Asgard, in the fullness of time."

"How would the Dark Lord have figured in those plans of yours?" Snape asked, sneering. "He would hardly have been a minor obstruction."

"I would have hunted him down and killed him as a threat to peace, and most particularly, to my family," Loki said calmly. His eyes darkened. "And if I ever find his remnants… I shall destroy them. That creature attacked my brother. He tore his love from him and separated him from his child. He is long overdue a slow and painful death."

"I do not think many will object to those plans," McGonagall said, then gasped as Loki suddenly lashed out, grabbing Snape's left arm, and hauled his sleeve up. Revealing the Dark Mark.

"How interesting," Loki said, voice as cold as arctic pack ice, and shifted his grip, forcing Snape to his knees. "I take it that he serves you now?"

"As a young man, he made mistakes. Mistakes he later regretted," Dumbledore said. "At great personal risk, he became my spy in Voldemort's inner circle. Alas, it was not in time to save Lily and, one way or another, James."

Loki still didn't release Snape's arm, which he held in a vice grip. Snape drew his wand.

"Don't even think about it," Loki said softly. "Unless you want your wand shattered." He looked down at Snape. "What shall I do with you, I wonder," he said. "I've heard many things about this man, from students and the castle herself. Few of them are good, some of them very intriguing. Before me kneels the Death Eater who loved a muggleborn. How ironic. She chose my brother, in the end. She chose the man who changed. Have you changed? Now _that_ is a good question."

"Youthful mistakes can be repented of and penance done," Dumbledore said quietly. "You yourself should know that, Loki."

Loki smiled sourly. "True enough." He released his grip. "But know this, Severus Snape. I do not trust you. Headmaster Dumbledore does, but I do not. Your motives may cause you to protect Harry, and do what is right, but you do not understand… goodness is its own reward. And I fear that you still look down on those of non-magical birth. For this and other sins, including the victimisation of my nephew – the castle has a _lot _to say about _that_ -, I do not like you. I will be watching you. Understood?"

"Understood," Snape growled, getting to his feet.

"Good," Loki said, as Snape stalked out, purposefully slamming down the door as loudly as possible. Loki's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Thor and Harry. Aside from a slight stirring, there was no change, so he let it go.

"Was that strictly necessary?" Dumbledore asked.

"He would never have loved I, my brother or my nephew," Loki said. "So it is better that he fears us. If love cannot be achieved, then fear shall have to suffice. It is imperfect, but often effective."

Dumbledore clearly disagreed, but said nothing, changing the subject. "They are very sweet together," he said.

"Yes they are," Loki agreed. "It is a great pity that this is the first time that Harry remembers his father's love for him, for I watched them when Lily was still alive."

"Even through the Fidelius?" Dumbledore asked, surprised.

Loki grinned. "I created half the spells you use today," he said smugly. "I know how to counter them all, without destroying their integrity." His face darkened. "I even created the spell that killed my brother's mortal form and his wife. Truly, it is a cruel irony that a spell I created to give magicals the means to protect themselves from angry mobs was used by one of them to harm those I loved."

"You _created_ the Killing Curse?" McGonagall asked in shock.

"A very long time ago," Loki said quietly. "I count it among the greatest mistakes that I have ever made, even if it was one made with the best of intentions." He sighed. "I have many, many sins to atone for, Professors."

He glanced at them. "I dare say that we should explain to the students what is happening. If they are anything like what I remember, they will be bursting with curiosity and coming up with the most outlandish rumours."

"I think that would be wise," Dumbledore sighed.

Meanwhile, a rat called Scabbers that had once been a man called Peter Pettigrew decided that now would be a good time to cut his losses. He had never imagined that two Norse Gods would appear and apparently – according to rumour – take an intense interest in Harry. A braver man and a more daring spy would have sought to find out more. As it was, Peter was neither of these. So he made good his escape. After leaving blood and hair behind to implicate the cat, of course.

The students had all gathered in the Great Hall.

"Silence please," Dumbledore said, standing at the podium. Loki was standing next to him. "As you may have noticed, this has been something of an unusual day, even by Hogwarts standards. Those of you who were at the Quidditch match will have seen the pitch invasion by Dementors, and the intervention of a man who controls lightning with a hammer. Those of you who know your Norse Mythology and follow the Muggle News may have figured out who he is. He is Thor, the Norse God of Thunder and Lightning."

A wave of excited whispers rose up.

"Quiet! He is also the man the Wizarding World once knew as James Potter," Dumbledore said. "Loki, here," Dumbledore said, gesturing at Loki, who smiled slightly and nodded. "Has explained that Thor was incarnated as James Potter, his spirit in the vessel of a mortal newborn, as a method of teaching him humility. The traumatic events of the night that Voldemort attacked the Potters meant that he nearly went insane. His father, Odin, removed his memories to preserve his mind, until Loki sensed that his nephew was in mortal danger, and restored them. I only ask that if you see Thor, whether he chooses to appear in his natural, blonde form, or as he did when he was James Potter, that you do not harass him or Harry. They are both going through a time of great emotional upheaval, and I think they would both appreciate privacy. That is all."

A new wave of chatter rose up as the students did what they did best. Gossip.

As Loki descended from the stage, he was confronted by six students in the sixth and seventh years. He raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" he asked.

They drew their wands. "You killed our parents," one of them, a blonde Gryffindor snarled. "In New York."

"I killed a lot of people's parents, and that was mostly the work of my minions," Loki said evenly. He narrowed his eyes and examined them. "Your father was Alan Scott," he said, pointing at the surprised blonde. He moved onto a dark haired Ravenclaw girl. "Your parents were William and Mary Oakeshott." Next, a blue eyed Hufflepuff girl. "Your father was David Johnson." Next, a brown haired Slytherin girl. "Your mother was Alicia Harper." Next, a red haired Ravenclaw boy. "Your father was Jonathan Webber." Finally, a green eyed Gryffindor girl. "And your parents were Olivia and Mark Barton."

"How did you do that?" the Ravenclaw asked, puzzled. A crowd had formed around them, and Loki could see that the staff were watching him carefully, in case he lashed out. He inwardly snorted. Maybe once he would have done exactly that. But he had changed.

"Because I took it upon myself to memorise the names and faces of everyone whose death I caused, directly or indirectly, in this realm," Loki said seriously. "I am sorry that I have denied you your parents. It grieves me greatly to realise that I have done the same to you as was done to my nephew. While I was insane at the time, that is no excuse. I did you all great wrong, and you have every right to kill me for it."

He held his hands at his sides and went down on one knee, bowing his head. "So kill me. No harm shall come to you for doing it, and no legal sanction shall follow you. My life is in your hands. Whether you crush it or let it go, so I may try to atone for my sins, is up to you. Choose."

The Gryffindor boy jerked his wand up, and pointed it at Loki's bowed head. The others didn't, couldn't move. He was shaking as he did so. He held the wand there for a long time, mouthing the words of the Killing Curse. Then he hurled his wand to ground and began to cry furious tears of frustration and grief.

"That was a little sudden," Loki murmured to himself. "No one else?" he asked.

They mutely shook their heads. "We're not going to kill you," the Ravenclaw girl said seriously. "That would make us no better than you. But we aren't going to forgive. Or forget."

"I expect nothing more," Loki said gravely. They nodded.

And with that, the five left, leaving Loki and the crying boy. Loki gently picked up the wand, examined it for cracks. There were none.

"It is far harder to kill than it first appears," Loki said gently, handing the wand back to the sobbing boy. "And it takes far greater courage to forsake the opportunity for righteous revenge, than it does to take that vengeance. Take it from someone who knows." He smiled. "I taught Godric Gryffindor, a long time before I went insane and sought to rule this world, you know. He would be proud of you." He patted the boy on the shoulder, and walked away. He had much thinking to do.

"Now that –" Fred said, watching him go.

"Was pretty awesome," George finished.

They wandered along the corridors, taking secret routes back to the Hospital Wing. Until they ran into Thor, in his James Potter form.

"Wow –"

"You really –"

"Do look –"

"A lot like –"

"Harry," they exclaimed.

Thor chuckled. "You're the Weasley twins, aren't you?"

Both bowed. "I'm Fred –"

"And I'm George –""

"At your service," they finished in unison. Thor chuckled.

"You remind me very much of Gideon and Fabian," he said, smiling. "I hear my brother has taken you on as his apprentices." He raised an eyebrow. "And I suspect that you, prime mischief makers of this era of Hogwarts, had some help."

"Help?" they asked in synchrony.

"From four people. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," Thor said. "Who wrote the Marauders Map."

"How –"

"Do you know –"

"About that?" they asked, puzzled.

Thor smiled. "Because I was Prongs."

"No way," both said in awe, eyes wide.

"Yes way. I'll let you in on a secret – Professor Lupin was Moony," Thor said, and chuckled at their gaping faces. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to Snivellus – I mean, Professor Snape." His face hardened. "I have heard many unpleasant things about him." He paused. "If you wish to visit my son, bear in mind that he is still asleep, and I would appreciate it if he wasn't disturbed."

The twins nodded seriously, and watched as he left. Visit a sleeping Harry, or which an angry thunder god almost certainly threaten Snape. It was no contest. They followed him at a distance, staying a corridor behind him at all times, until Thor found Snape.

"Severus," Thor said quietly. "I would have words with you."

Snape turned, and sneered. "Potter. Are you going to taunt me about how death itself cannot stop you? Your brat is just as arrogant as you ever were, by the way. You must be so proud."

Thor's eyes turned cold, and said, "It is on the subject of my son that I want to talk with you. From what I hear, you've had it out for him since the beginning."

Snape opened his mouth to retort, but Thor ruthlessly overrode him. "It must just _kill _you to see Lily's eyes staring out of my face, mustn't it," he said, voice merciless. "She was your friend. I think you loved her, which is why you hate him all the more, seeing a living reminder that when it came down to it, she choseme. Not you. _Me_."

Snape merely glared at him.

"I can understand that," Thor said calmly. "I must admit that I might feel much the same in your position. And I accept that you saved my son's life. You have my sincerest thanks for that. Even if you were just paying off your life debt." He sighed. "I also treated you badly when we were both young. We were both culpable in that, but that is no excuse. My behaviour was deeply dishonourable, and you have my sincerest apologies."

"So what now? We're bosom friends for ever more?" Snape asked caustically.

"No. You're a Death Eater. _You_, change of heart or not, are the one who condemned my wife," Thor said, eyes burning with fury now, closing on Snape, jabbing his right forefinger to emphasise his words.

"_You_ are the one who caused my son to grow up in hell. _You_ are the reason he had no parents. _You_," he snarled. "Are the reason my son cried himself to sleep as a child, living in a dark, dank, cobweb ridden cupboard. I shall not forgive. I shall not forget." He calmed himself. "But Albus trusts you. He has uses for you. That has earned you a stay of execution. But warned, Snape, one thing I could never stand was to see those I loved in pain. And if you cause another tear to fall from my son's eyes, directly or indirectly, then I shall show you my true power."

"What? A few lightning bolts?" Snape said, hiding his genuine fear behind sneering bravado.

"I am the God of Thunder and Lightning spoken of in ancient myth and whispered legend, Snape," Thor said softly. A powerful static charge began to build, until sparks danced around Thor. "I am he who battled Jormungand, the father of all great serpents, and fought the greatest Jotunheim had to offer when Merlin was but a suckling babe. I am Thor Odinson, God of the Vikings. Not a petty conjuror of cheap tricks. All the power of the storm, from all the world, flows through my veins. It can be summoned by my hammer at any time, wherever it is. A lightning storm in Japan? Mine. A hurricane off the coast of Barbados? Mine again. A brace of tornadoes in Kansas? Mine. All that might, all that destructive force, _mine_ to command. Channelled and guided through the mystic might of my hammer," Thor said, voice menacing, and leaned in close. "And if you hurt my son or his friends, it will be guided right at _you_. _Understood?_"

Snape nodded slowly and swept away, cloak billowing. Thor snorted, and turned to go, static charge dissipating.

Neither paid attention to the Weasley twins, who were watching from round the corner. They quickly left, and shared awed looks. "It's official," Fred whispered.

"Harry's family are awesome!" George finished. They shared a grin.

"I think brother," Fred said. "That we should tell Harry about this."

"You read my mind, brother," George replied.

They turned and ran back to the Hospital Wing. Harry, they reckoned, would get a real kick of hearing about this, they thought.

**So ends another chapter. Next up, Thor goes to talk to the Avengers, and reveals to them his past history as James Potter. **

**I'm not entirely sure when the next chapter will be done, but hopefully soon. **

**Please review. **


	3. Chapter 3: Explanations and Warnings

**131 reviews for two chapters… Damn, I'm a lucky boy. I'd just like to say thank you to all my reviewers and my readers for all the positive feedback, with a particular thank you to those that provided constructive criticism. You guys help me improve as a writer, so thank you.**

**People have been asking about pairings. No, Harry will not be shipped with Hermione – I have little against the pairing, I just think their relationship is too brother-sister for it to work. Yes, he probably will be shipped with Ginny at some point. But before you all go, she is not the only person he will be shipped with, and he will **_**definitely**_** have very strong feelings for others. **

**And no, there will be no Harem whatsoever. There might be moresomes down the line, if you follow me, but those will likely be comedic events of debatable canonicity. Certainly, they won't be taken very seriously.**

Thor walked outside. Hogwarts, he thought, was beautiful. Much as it had been sixteen years ago, when he had last been a student. He looked under a very particular tree. It was an oak. He and Lily had spent many hours sitting under it, just… _being_. He remembered her laugh, her smile and the way her green eyes had sparkled when she was happy. He remembered the way she had felt in his arms, her warmth, her strength, her gentleness balanced by her furious passion. She had been like fire and life incarnate, so much so that he'd once compared her to a phoenix. This had led to a little bit of explaining on his part, but she had, when she realised what he was getting at, liked the comparison.

He frowned slightly. He loved Lily. He loved her so much still that it was painful. Yet there was Jane. The petite, brilliant woman who had helped him learn the lessons his father had tried to teach him, the one who had stood by him. He knew that he loved her. He sighed and rubbed his face. This was complicated, to put it mildly.

He thought back to Lily. He remembered the smell of her hair. He remembered the tired but utterly joyful look on her face as she held their newborn son. He remembered his last words to her.

_Lily! Take Harry and go! I'll hold him off!_

He remembered a flash of green. A painless death – the stories were true, it did not hurt in the slightest. Next, slipping away from his mortal form. Then watching, helpless to intervene – and oh, how he had tried, intangible fists striking at Voldemort, finally trying to shield Lily with his ghostly form, invisible to all others, desperately trying to impede the killing curse. He had failed. When the woman he loved had needed him most, he had failed her. That monster had taken the woman he loved from him. He closed his eyes, as grief turned to anger.

The sky darkened and lightning began to dance from cloud to cloud and the wind began to pick up, whipping autumn leaves up into the air in small eddies. The air was cold and crisp, a sign of the oncoming winter. The water in the mud was freezing to ice, and the ground was hardening. A very apt state, Thor thought, for the land that reminded him of his broken heart.

"You will pay, Voldemort," Thor murmured, reining in his temper with difficulty. "But not today."

He began spin his hammer. He had places to be.

"Going somewhere?" Loki asked.

Thor nodded, stopping his spin and imminent flight. "New York. I think I owe the Avengers an explanation, and I wish to enlist Tony's help in getting custody of Harry and destroying the Dursleys'."

Loki nodded. "I need to speak to Albus," he said. "And search for Sirius. I will also keep an eye on Harry while you are gone."

"Thank you, brother," Thor said quietly, before taking off.

Thor flew as fast as he could. He broke the sound barrier within moments, and left a rippling series of sonic booms behind him as he shot across the Atlantic. It took him twenty minutes to reach the East coast, angling southwards a little to get to New York. He slowed as he reached city limits, landing carefully.

Tony looked up as he saw Thor land on the balcony and stride in. "Hey big guy. What's up?"

"I need to speak to the Avengers. More to the point, I need to talk to my friends," Thor said. Something, Tony thought, was different about him. His syntax was more modern, and the accent was less Shakespearean. Just in case it was impostor, he got JARVIS to run a full scan of Thor's biology, looking to see if a shapeshifter was impersonating him, and clipped the bands for the Mark VII onto his wrists for good measure. Thor, displaying uncommonly good observation skills which ratcheted Tony's personal paranoia meter up even further, saw the bands and smiled.

"It's me Tony. I've just regained a few memories. Twenty one years of memories to be precise," Thor said, then sighed. "I need a drink. A strong one."

"Twenty one years. That's a lot, even for an Asgardian Demi God," Tony said as he poured a scotch for himself and one for Thor. It was only three o'clock, but Tony was always ready for a drink. Besides, it was sundown in less than two hours.

"Actually, the term is god," Thor said, as Tony gulped some of the scotch. "An example of a true demi god, a half human, half god, would be my son."

Thor looked amused as Tony spat out the scotch and stared at him in shock.

"Yes Tony, I'm a father, as I have just rediscovered. The full story can wait until the rest of the Avengers are here, and Pepper too. I feel that I may need her advice on helping Jane adjust to this," Thor said. "The reason I sound a little different is because of the influence of those memories and recently having to deal with a number of people I knew back then."

"All the Avengers are in the tower at the moment, except for Darcy and Selvig, they're in New Mexico, and Loki, he's in Asgard," Tony said. "I've just called them on the personal frequency which Fury hasn't managed to hack yet."

"I know. Darcy and Erik I can collect in a little bit. And it was Loki who warned me that my son was in grave danger and broke down the memory block. I had to leave in a hurry and he remained to explain to Jane. Currently he is in Scotland, talking to my son and arranging the transfer of custody from his aunt and uncle," Thor said, and Tony noted his expression darken when it got to the aunt and uncle. "And thank you Tony. I'd rather not deal with Fury at the moment."

"Eh, it's okay. Anything that annoys Nicky boy is automatically a good idea in my book," Tony said.

Thor chuckled. "That would explain a lot of your behaviour."

"It does, doesn't it," Tony agreed, looking up as the lift dinged, Pepper, Natasha and Bruce making their way in.

"Steve and Clint were sparring, so they'll be up in a minute," Pepper explained. "Hi Thor. What's up?"

"I have something I need to tell you, as my friends," Thor said. "It is a story that has been forgotten and buried these past twelve years. It can wait a few minutes longer." The rest of the Avengers looked intrigued, and Natasha was eyeing Thor, obviously noting the same changes in demeanour that Tony had. Catching her eye, Tony pointedly removed the bracelets, and she nodded. Thor was not some evil shapeshifting monster.

A couple of minutes later, a slightly damp but clean Steve and Clint made their way in.

"Hey, I heard Thor wanted a word," Steve said.

"Indeed I do," Thor said. "I would suggest that you sit down. This may not be the shortest of tales, and it is not the most simple either."

Looking intrigued, Steve sat down. Clint flicked a glance at Natasha, who nodded slightly, then sat down himself.

"Our story starts around thirty five years ago," Thor said. "I was a brave, but extremely arrogant and thoughtless warrior. My father thought that I needed to learn humility, and sent me to earth as a mortal. However, this was different to the second time he sent me down as a mortal. I was reborn with no memories of my life on Asgard, to a couple called Charlus and Dorea Potter, and given the name James Potter. I looked rather different then than I do now, for one, I had dark hair and a superficial resemblance to Loki. I was mortal, but I was a wizard. It is not only Asgardians who wield magic, mortals do as well. Indeed, four of their greatest witches and wizards were trained by Loki and myself, though my part mostly extended to the arts of combat – my premier student is known even over a thousand years later as one of the greatest duellists of history, so I feel justified in being proud."

Everyone looked interested, and was listening closely. Thor took a deep breath. "I grew up, a somewhat spoilt child – I was born to parents who were rich, kindly and quite old, and as the only child I was indulged a lot, as I suspect Tony was," he said, adding the last part at Tony's nods of understanding. "I wanted for nothing. At the age of eleven, I went to a school for young witches and wizards called Hogwarts, in Scotland," Tony gave Thor a sharp look, noting that Loki was probably at the school at this very moment. "I met a boy called Sirius Black, and he became my best friend. In many ways, now I come to think of it, he was very like Tony. Handsome, rich, talented, did not get on with his family at all and underneath the swagger, a good man."

"Stop, you're making me blush," Tony said drily, drawing a chuckle from Thor.

"They have the same sense of humour too. Sirius would have said the exact same thing in that position," Thor said. "I met a couple of other boys who were to become my best friends. A boy called Remus Lupin, who had the unfortunate curse of lycanthropy – he was a werewolf, turned intentionally by a monster called Fenrir Greyback when he was a child – and Peter Pettigrew. And I met a girl called Lily Evans, and her friend, Severus Snape. Snape I took a dislike to immediately, with his supercilious attitude, greasy hair and hooked nose. Lily I mostly dismissed, though she intrigued me."

"The beginnings of a crush," Tony said, nodding sagely.

Thor nodded. "Exactly so, Tony. As time went on, I became a star at the school sport, Quidditch, which was unsurprising since it involved flying. My friends and I became known as the Marauders, the finest pranksters to grace the hall of Hogwarts – for context, we once turned one of the four house tables into a herd of badgers - and we discovered Remus' lycanthropy, which he had been carefully hiding with the aid of the Headmaster. He was our friend and we didn't care if the Wizarding World saw him as a dark creature for something he had no control over. Werewolves are relatively docile around animals, so I and Sirius, both naturally talented at Transfiguration, studied to become animagi. With sufficient time, effort and care, any witch or wizard can become an Animagus and turn into an animal, though it can be quite dangerous, so most don't. But we discovered how by the time we were fifteen, and helped Peter, who became one a few months after us."

"What was your form?" Tony asked, bouncing excitedly. In answer, where Thor had been standing there was now a large stag, with a fine rack of antlers.

"Wow," Pepper breathed, Natasha and Clint raised simultaneous eyebrows, Steve nearly fell off his stool in shock and Tony reached over to poke Thor, checking to see if the stag was real.

"How?" Tony asked.

"It violates the conservation of mass," Bruce said, then added dryly, "congratulations Thor, you have officially broken the laws of physics."

Thor shifted back and grinned. "I think that Loki could provide an explanation that would satisfy you and explain how Animagism and the laws of Physics fit together, but I cannot. Anyway, by around 15, I was also head over heels in love with Lily. She didn't return my affections, rightly thinking I was arrogant, egotistical and a bit of a dick. I will admit that I treated Snape, her friend, badly, though he never missed an opportunity to curse me, so I considered turnabout fair play."

"Your other self is sounding more and more like Tony was a few years back," Pepper said dryly.

"I don't think I was quite _that_ bad," Thor said cheekily, continuing as Tony spluttered indignantly.

"Snape fell into bad company, delving into the dark arts, and called Lily, a muggleborn –" Thor paused. "At this point, I feel I should explain that muggleborns are witches and wizards not born into the old Wizarding families, born to non-magical parents. I was what was called a pureblood, and many purebloods, though not myself and my parents, thought that muggles were lesser creatures and that muggleborns were weaker than even half-bloods. This was bullshit, since Lily was easily the most powerful witch or wizard of her generation, but some people refuse to see. Anyway Snape called Lily a 'mudblood'. It's the Wizarding equivalent of the n-word," Thor said, expression grim.

"Apparently he was completely contrite later, begging for forgiveness, but Lily was having none of it. He had chosen his side, a group known as the Death Eaters, Wizarding Nazi's by another name, and she had chosen hers. A couple of years later, in our final year, I grew up a bit, and she began to love me back. It was young love," Thor said, clearly lost in memory, then he visibly snapped back to the present and his face hardened.

"Young love in wartime. The Death Eaters were led by an extremely powerful wizard called Lord Voldemort. He was a fully-fledged Dark Lord, and to give you an idea of how dangerous one of those is, the previous Dark Lord, Grindelwald, was the man behind Adolf Hitler. Hitler was his puppet, as, probably, was Hydra," Thor said, looking at Steve, who nodded.

"Do you know a wizard called Albus Dumbledore?" Steve asked, and Thor nodded.

"My former teacher, and good friend. He is the only mortal wizard alive who can match Voldemort, if not beat him," Thor said. "You knew each other?"

"We worked together and I liked him. I got the impression he and Grindelwald went back, and not in a good way," Steve said.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you," Thor said. "Anyway. As young couples do, Lily and I got married at a young age, barely nineteen. Both sets of parents were murdered, though both put up a good fight. Lily's parents, though wandless and in their fifties, took out fifteen Death Eaters and survived several murder attempts before being killed, and my own took out six of Voldemort's very best."

"That must have been hard," Pepper said sympathetically.

Thor grimaced. "And it still hurts. They were as much my parents as Odin and Frigga. But Lily and I wanted to get the most out of our probably short lifespans – we fought on the frontlines, as Auror's and part of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's counterpart to the Death Eaters as the government was being corrupted – and married. We were young, happy, and in love. Soon after, Lily was pregnant."

Everyone aside from Tony looked shocked as they realised the implications of this.

"Soon after the birth of our first born, Harry James Potter, there was a prophecy. A child born on his birthday would have the power to defeat Voldemort. Lily, Harry and I went into hiding. Only one person knew the Secret of our location, our friend, Peter Pettigrew. We put it about that Sirius was the Secret keeper, he being the logical choice," Thor said, and paused to take a deep breath.

"You see, Sirius was a powerful wizard, easily as strong as I was, if not stronger. He was a natural warrior, with a rare and instinctive talent for combat in the same way Steve is an instinctive leader. He was brave, brilliant, witty and a skilled leader. He was a cut above the rest, an up and coming Auror. Peter was none of these. Then, on Halloween the year after Harry was born, Pettigrew betrayed us. Voldemort himself attacked. I was caught without my wand, and while with it I was powerful enough to hold him off for long enough to allow Lily and Harry to escape, all I could do was die. My spirit, complete with memories of my true life as Thor, could only watch and weep as Voldemort faced my beloved Lily, telling her to stand aside while she pleaded for Harry's life. She refused to step aside. He killed her in cold blood."

Thor was openly crying now, and all the Avengers looked horrorstruck.

"_Bohze moi_," Natasha whispered and Tony laid an awkward hand on Thor's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Then he turned on Harry. Voldemort used the killing curse, a spell that is impossible to counter, the only protection being to dodge and put something between you and it. And he used it on Harry. And the impossible happened. The curse rebounded, with enough force to tear the house apart, leaving it a smouldering ruin. Harry survived, with a scar, and my spirit was whisked back to Asgard, where I regained my true form. Voldemort was gone, having taken the brunt of the rebounding curse, but Pettigrew and Voldemort's other servants still lived. As soon as I was able, I leapt out of bed, ranting and raving. I wanted to kill every damn Death Eater I could lay my hands on. I wanted revenge, and I was senseless with rage and grief. I remember my father restraining me, and taking the memories of that time, banning any reference to the time I had been away. I was as I had been before. All was forgotten. I did not grieve for my wife, for I did not remember her. I did not search for my son, for I did not know he existed."

"Jesus Christ," Tony muttered, pouring Thor another scotch, which the Thunder God accepted with a nod of thanks, downing it in one. Steve reached across, and took one of Thor's hands in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Tell it in your own time, Thor," Steve said kindly. "From your perspective, you lost someone you loved very dearly only a few days ago. We can wait."

Thor fixed him with a look, then smiled. "Ah, Steve Rogers. This is why you are one of the greatest men I have ever had the good fortune to encounter in my very long life. Thank you, but I will finish the tale. There is little left."

Steve blushed slightly and shrugged. "It's what I'd do for any of my friends," he said.

"Exactly," Thor replied with a knowing smile.

"Hey, bond later, tell story now," Tony said, and Thor rolled his eyes.

"Loki received an unconscious distress call last night from my son. He was being hunted by creatures called Dementors – monsters that devour positive emotion and the souls of any unfortunate enough not to know the Patronus charm, their one weakness. Though they don't like being struck by lightning much," Thor added, smirking slightly.

"Loki ran to my room, broke the memory block, and told me to go while he explained to Jane. I saved my son, catching him in mid-air as he fell from his broom – Quidditch is played on flying broomsticks - and drove off the Dementors. I also have Loki to thank for my ability to do this," Thor said, shifting to his James Potter face. "It saves a lot of explaining."

"That's what you looked like as James Potter, right?" Bruce asked, as Natasha studied the face for future reference.

"I did," Thor confirmed. "As some of you may have noticed, I speak differently. That is the influence of the memories. Whether it will continue or fade, I do not know."

"This Lily, what did she look like?" Steve asked curiously.

"Tony, if you could look up a Lily Evans? She would have been thirty three this year," Thor asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony obliged, and a virtual screen popped up with pictures of a beautiful red headed and green eyed woman.

"Lily," Thor whispered, apparently transfixed.

"Wow, she's a hottie," Tony said, flicking through her primary school grades. "And smart too."

"She's beautiful," Steve said, squeezing Thor's shoulder. Of all the Avengers, he understood how Thor was feeling best. After all, he had been in the exact same position with Peggy, but he at least had been spared the pain of watching her die.

"Aye, she was, all fire and passion. Anyone who crossed her lived to regret it. She wouldn't tolerate even the slightest injustice, and always had a kind word for the less fortunate. She duelled Voldemort personally at nineteen, and held him off. I can count on both hands the number of people who've done that at any age, and I'm one of them," Thor said, smiling sadly.

Tony zoomed in on one of the better pictures, and Thor reached out, touching the image's hair. "Goodbye Lily," he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Tony, if you would."

Tony obligingly removed the images.

"Thank you, all of you. I needed that. Pepper," Thor said, wiping his tears away, then paused, as if searching for the right words.

"You want advice on how to get your newfound son and girlfriend to adjust to the circumstances and hopefully to get along," Pepper said, and Thor's jaw dropped.

"She's good," Tony said, smirking.

"Come on," Pepper said. "And I'll give you some advice and have a word with Jane. You may want to keep Darcy out of it at the moment, because though she is a lovely girl, she's even less tactful than Tony on a bad day."

Loki teleported into the shadows of Dumbledore's office. The man himself was busy reading.

"You are quite the chessmaster," Loki said calmly. To his credit, Dumbledore didn't look startled. Merely mildly amused.

"I have always rather enjoyed the game," he said calmly. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Little enough," Loki said lightly. "It is just… this war between yourself and Voldemort. It is much like a chess game. For instance, Harry is your king. Potentially useful, and if used creatively, very dangerous. But also gravely at risk and to be protected at all costs. Voldemort, currently, is his own King. Again, dangerous, but vulnerable. As for the rest," he said, conjuring an illusion of a chessboard.

"Let us see. The Knight, a piece that moves in unexpected fashions. That is Snape, your spy. A pawn, a small piece that could yet become more, that is Sirius Black. A powerful wizard in his own right, he could yet become useful. But not yet. He is still lost. It is more the higher order pieces that concern us. Especially since we can introduce some new pieces," Loki said, lifting one up and examining it. "The Queen, the most powerful and arguably the most valuable piece on the board. That is my brother. A powerful wizard, and a powerful deity, he is probably your single most powerful asset. I myself am a Knight. Dangerous, and unpredictable." He smirked. "And in my case, impossible to predict for both sides."

Dumbledore had steepled his fingers and was watching him.

"Then Anthony Stark, Iron Man. Powerful and direct, he would make a good Rook. The other Rook is Doctor Banner, otherwise known as the Hulk. The two Bishops, one would be Hawkeye and the other would be Captain Rogers," Loki said thoughtfully.

"And Miss Romanov?" Dumbledore asked.

"A pawn," Loki said instantly. "Apparently harmless, but really the most dangerous of them all, if you leave her unwatched." He looked at Dumbledore. "When I tried to rule this world, it was her that was my undoing. She is a valuable ally and a terrifying enemy."

He sat down. "You have powerful pieces. And I am here to warn you – good intentions or no, any manipulation that leads to my brother or nephew coming to harm will be met _severe_ punitive action."

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "I understand," he said quietly. "I cannot promise that my plans will not involve one or the other being placed in danger, but if I can avoid them being hurt, I will."

Loki looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "See that you do," he said, teleporting away in a shadowy swirl of golden-green robes.

"I do wonder if he just did that to show off," Dumbledore murmured to Fawkes, slightly amused. He went back to his book. The Tale of the Three Brothers had always fascinated him.

**And the end of another chapter. Don't worry, we will get to the Dursley's comeuppance soon enough… it's just that scenes need to be set and story laid out. There will be more character building and scene setting in the immediate future. Don't fear me abandoning this fic – I currently have 115, 500 words written up for this fic, 60,415 for the sequel, and 55,936 for the third and final instalment (though it is likely to be divided into more than three fics). I have **_**big **_**plans for this. Some of which are already being hinted at – comics fans have the best chance of spotting them. Please be so kind as to review.**


	4. Chapter 4: Revenge is Sweet

**Luna Potter: Your inquiries answered: 1) Loki's reasoning will be revealed in time, and Pepper will ask him about it. As for Odin, Odin is millennia old. Ten years is, to him, a pitstop at most. 2) Thor believes Dumbledore when he says that he didn't know, and Dumbledore is telling the truth. The thing about Harry's abuse is that there aren't many outward signs, and Mrs Figg seems to assume the best of the Dursleys, so she doesn't tell Dumbledore that Harry is being abused. 3) Loki can be exceptionally vicious, and if needs be, he will. He knows that they need Dumbledore, and he knows that Dumbledore's telling the truth.**

**I don't think Dumbledore is as bad as Voldemort. I think he made mistakes, which is something he acknowledges, but it's a case of damned if he does and damned if he doesn't. Harry does have other, mortal family hanging around, family that wanted to take him in. As to who they are… well, have patience. And if Dumbledore had known about them, he would have been very happy to give Harry into their custody. But he didn't.**

Thor had received what seemed to be a lecture of do's (emphasise memory loss and the fact that he's staying with her) and don'ts (talk too much about Lily, not unless Jane asks) when talking to Jane, and the same for Harry (again, emphasise memory loss, also emphasise that he loved Lily and does not love either her or him any less. Ease him into the idea), while the rest gave suggestions. Most were helpful. Even Tony's suggestions were helpful, surprisingly enough.

But the conversation soon moved back to more political matters.

"You're going to need to talk to Director Fury," Natasha said to Thor.

"I will," Thor said. He smiled slightly. "I know Nicholas Joseph Fury better than you think."

Tony nearly choked on his scotch. "His middle name is _Joseph?!"_

"It is," Thor said. "He was a close friend of my mother and father in law," he explained. "And the closest thing Lily had to an older brother." He laughed. "Oh it is an irony. He was very nearly Harry's godfather, and he always was very good with him. He was particularly good at doing the voices for bedtime stories. Why, I think Harry once called him 'Unca Nick'."

There was a thump and a sound of shattering glass. Thor looked around. Tony had fainted.

Clint's jaw had dropped. Natasha's eyebrows had both risen. Bruce and Pepper looked amused. Steve looked surprised.

"Really?" Steve asked.

"Yeah… he was a lot younger, back then," Thor said. "He had both eyes. And he smiled more, much more. However serious he looked, Lily could always make him laugh."

"How did they know each other?" Bruce asked curiously.

"Lily's parents, Michael and Emily Evans, worked in the Security Services, and they took Nick under their wing when he was posted to Britain," Thor said. "Or at least, that's what I heard."

"They worked for SHIELD," Natasha said. "A good half of the exemplar missions on the SHIELD training courses were based on some of their missions."

"And they were pretty much the best out there," Fury said, striding into the room. "So. Thor. Or is it James?"

"Whichever suits you, Nick," Thor said. "I take it you heard?"

"Most of it," Fury said. "I lost my eye avenging you two, you know," he said. "It's a bit odd having you as part of my team, now," he said wryly.

"Who took it?" Thor asked. "I can bump them up the list of people to smite." He chuckled. "And odd does not even begin to cover it."

"That's true enough. It was Lucius Malfoy," Fury said. "And I am the reason he is on his second wand and walks with a cane."

"Consider him smote," Thor murmured.

"No," Fury said. "When Lucius Malfoy dies… I am going to be the one to do it."

"Well, this is delightfully morbid," Tony commented from the floor. "So, Nick, what bedtime stories did you read little Harry?" he asked, smirking.

Fury gave Tony an evil look. "James," he said. "I am going to get you for telling him that."

Thor laughed. "Good luck with that." He sobered. "How did you hold up?"

"About as well as might be expected," Fury sighed. "I tried for custody of Harry, but that went about as well you might expect, considering I had no direct tie to him. Remus tried as well, but as a werewolf, he'd have had a better chance of becoming Minister." He paced. "I knew Sirius was innocent, but only the Order of the Phoenix would even consider taking me at my word, and the politicians had found their scapegoat."

"So you were never going to be listened to, not in a million years," Thor said, nodding.

"Exactly," Fury said sourly. "I was lucky not to be obliviated."

"I wonder how the kid's doing," Steve said thoughtfully. "I mean, I've had previous with revelations like this being dropped on your head and they can be… a little disorienting."

"That is a good question," Thor said quietly. "I'll drop in on him again. But first, I have business with the Ministry."

"So," Harry said, grinning like all his Christmases had come at once. "Run this by me again."

"Your dad basically told Snape that he controls every thunderstorm in the world and threatened to fry him if he upset you ever again," Fred said, also grinning.

"My dad is awesome," Harry said.

"Can't deny it, young Harry," George said. "Why, Gred, I'd say –"

"That he's pretty much a god of awesome? Yes, Forge, I think I agree. Of course the god of badassery is our new Master –"

"Loki."

"And that was just after Loki basically dared a bunch of students to kill him."

"Why did they want to kill him?" Harry asked.

"Their parents died in the Battle of New York," George explained.

"Oh," Harry said quietly, being sharply reminded that his new uncle was a reformed evil overlord.

"Yeah," Fred said, slightly sober. "Still, he did offer them the chance to kill him if they wanted to and did apologise for it."

"In my own defence, I was insane at the time," Loki said. All three of them jumped.

"Blimey –"

"Uh –"

"Master –"

"We didn't –"

"See you –"

"There."

Loki chuckled. "You weren't meant to. And Loki will suffice, unless I am actually teaching you," he said. "Those students had every right to take my life in recompense for their loss. I humbly requested they let me atone for my actions," he continued. "And they accepted."

He sighed. "Every time I close my eyes, I see one of the fallen. People I condemned to death, either directly or indirectly. Such is the price I have paid," he said. "But I would not have it any other way. They remind me of what I was. Never forget. Never repeat. All I can do is use them as a spur to do good, to protect those who need protecting. Power comes with responsibility, one I forgot." His expression was determined. "Never again."

He smiled slightly. "Now, what is this I hear about my brother intimidating that vile Snape creature?" He wrinkled his nose. "Honestly, if he were the first mortal I had encountered when I tried to rule this earth, I would have given the lot of you up as a bad cause. A ruler should have subjects who understand the concept of washing every now and then."

The three snickered.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Snape… I'm honestly surprised most people can't smell him coming."

"I can," Loki said and shuddered slightly. "It is not a pleasant experience." He conjured a chair and sat down, ignoring the incredulous stares of the Weasley twins. Wandless conjuration with that much ease was generally held to be impossible. Of course, Loki lived and breathed the impossible. He smiled slightly. "And God of Badassery… that is a new title, I must say. I like it." He leaned forward, and looked at the three. "Now, tell me about this intimidation. In full."

The twins shared a look and began to talk.

Tony watched as Thor flew off. "So," he said. "The big guy has a kid. Who'd a thought it?"

"Well, he is over a thousand years old, Tony, and it's a safe bet that a royal warrior god would have got around," Bruce pointed out. "I'm only surprised that the kid is so young."

Tony inclined his head. "Good point," he admitted. He cracked his knuckles. "This kid has abusive guardians. Not for much longer," he said, tone determined. "JARVIS, bring up all files relevant to Harry Potter. I don't care what you have to hack – just do it."

Fury coughed. Tony rolled his eyes. "Fine. Hack everything but SHIELD files." He paused. "You do realise I hack your databases when I get bored, right?"

"Which means roughly four times a week," Pepper said.

"I was going to say that I could provide the old hard copy files of Michael and Emily Evans," Fury said. "They haven't been digitised."

"Cool, thanks," Tony said, already distracted.

"Oh, and Stark?" Fury said. "I'll handle their physical hell. You handle the mental hell. I expect them on the front page of every paper in Britain."

Tony grinned. "Sounds like fun," he said, typing away.

Natasha glanced at Clint. "I think we have a few suggestions to make," she said.

"I'm open," Tony said. "What about you two?" he asked Bruce and Steve.

Steve shook his head. "Just make 'em pay," he said quietly.

Bruce looked thoughtful. "Make them out to be freakish abnormal monsters," he suggested. "I can't think of anything that could hurt them more."

"Gotcha," Tony said. "One reputation destroying revenge, coming right up."

He began to type as Fury left. He had a plane to catch. He turned on his phone. "Wisdom?" He said. "I need a favour…"

Thor walked through the Ministry. The hammer at his hip earned him a few odd looks, and people who recognised his appearance whispered to each other, but nothing more. People seemed to instinctively know to get out of his way, the same way animals instinctively hide when they hear the sound of thunder.

"CROUCH!" Thor bellowed, striding into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

The man himself walked out of his office and stopped. His jaw dropped.

"James Potter," he said faintly. "You're dead."

"I was disembodied. I was returned to my true self. I am James Potter, and I am also Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder," Thor stated, striding over to the other man. Though he was in his James Potter form and wearing standard wizard robes – save for Mjolnir on his belt – he managed to give off the same looming and intimidating air as he did as Thor. Since James Potter had not been the world's smallest man, it was not that hard. He grabbed Crouch by the throat and slammed him against the wall. "And I want to know why Sirius Black never got a trial."

Crouch's eyes bulged and he began to turn red. Thor held him there for a few long moments as a crowd grew, then dropped him and smoothly drew his wand, which had been provided by Dumbledore.

"Start talking or I start hexing. Since I'm a little out of practice with this thing, who knows what will happen," Thor said ominously.

"All the evidence… was against… Black," Crouch wheezed.

"So you threw him into the worst prison in the world without a trial?" Thor demanded. He turned to the crowd. "Sirius Black is innocent of betraying I and my family. He was not our Secret Keeper. I do not doubt that he is innocent of the other charges against him as well."

"Then who betrayed you?" Crouch asked.

"Pettigrew. Who, being a rat animagus, probably faked his death," Thor said grimly.

"You have proof of this?"

"I will testify under veritaserum, provided that I see the questions first. You can find me either at Hogwarts or by contacting me through Professor Dumbledore," Thor replied, turning to go. He paused. "Consider this: if Peter was the one doing the cornering, why was it him who was backing away into a corner, according to witness statements? Why was it Sirius who was asking him questions before Peter asked him the question, and why did Sirius do it quietly when Peter did it openly? If Sirius was really an insane murderous Death Eater, how did he keep up the 'act' for so long?"

He paused. "Oh, and Crouch? I expect him to be exonerated. Or the fact that you threw him in Azkaban for popularity might find its way into the Prophet."

"Justice isn't my department anymore," Crouch said.

"I don't care. Do it. Or I guarantee you'll be jumping in terror every time you hear the crack of thunder for the rest of your miserable life," Thor growled.

"How can I contact you?" one secretary, braver than the rest, asked.

"Ask Dumbledore," Thor said curtly.

He stalked out, hurling some floo powder into a nearby fire and barking, "Hogwarts!" as he stepped into it.

He stepped out of the flame into the Headmaster's office, and looked at Loki, who was waiting. Dumbledore was out and Fawkes trilled a greeting.

"Hello Fawkes," Thor greeted, then looked back at Loki. "Brother, has Tony called?"

Loki nodded. "He's ready. I spoke with the Queen, and she has passed on a message to the Prime Minister and his cabinet, to formalise Harry returning to your custody."

"Since when do you know the Queen?" Thor asked.

Loki looked a little shifty. "We got… acquainted."

"Loki, you didn't…" Thor said, laughing. "When?"

"It was sixty two years ago, Thor," Loki said. "We keep in amicable contact."

"How did you meet?" Thor asked, vaguely fascinated.

"She was helping out after a bombing raid, and unlike her fellows, seemed most unperturbed by someone falling out of the sky. She had a calm and presence that marked her out as special, even among kings and queens," Loki said calmly. He smiled. "Dear Lizzie. I respected her even when I was going through my 'Midgardians are ants' phase."

Thor shook his head, smiling slightly. "After all these years, brother, you are still full of surprises," he said.

"I would be boring if I wasn't," Loki retorted. He smiled. "She was one of the first people to contact me when I returned to Midgard, the day it hit the news." He winced slightly. "Mother could have taken lessons from the scolding she gave me. Age has neither dimmed her infinite majesty nor has it dimmed her ability to give a tongue lashing that would send Surtur running."

"I did wonder why you were looking terrified and holding a telephone away from your ear," Thor observed, amused.

"Yes," Loki said slowly. "Harry wants to talk to you some more."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He said that he wants to get to know his father," Loki said.

Thor's smile could have lit up London.

Vernon opened the door cautiously, in response to the brisk knocking. He had heard the strange noises outside, and devoutly hoped that it wasn't one of… _those_ people. Besides, the brat was still at that freak school. Vernon hoped he hadn't been expelled. After that incident with Marge he quailed at the thought of an angry young wizard in his house looking for twelve years' worth of revenge.

He opened the door, and his jaw dropped. It was none other than Tony Stark, Iron Man. Vernon's opinion on heroes was less than flattering due to their freaky powers, though he did concede their uses. But Iron Man was an achievement of science, not freakish magic, and a successful businessman to boot, so he was to be admired. He was also standing in his suit on the doorstep. Well. That explained the noises.

"Hey, Vernon Dursley, right?" Stark said, flipping up his visor.

Vernon nodded dumbly, still in shock.

"Can I come in?" Tony asked.

"Of course," Vernon said, "Come in, make yourself at home. But… why are you here?"

"I'm an industrialist. You work for a drilling company. Why do you think I'm here?" Stark said, smirking to remove most of the bite from the words. But there was something about the eyes.

Stark's eyes were calculating, eyeing him and weighing him. For all the man's playboy reputation, he was a genius and a brilliant businessman, one who did not trust easily, so Vernon suspected he was judging him as a potential business partner. He brightened up.

Why else would the man be here, after all, Vernon thought. It was hardly as if they had any mutual acquaintances. It was a little puzzling that he chose to meet him here, but that could be explained by Stark's eccentricity. He led the way towards the kitchen, then turned as a clatter heralded Stark stumbling. A hand had brushed against the cupboard under the stairs, which hung open.

"Sorry, I'm not used to walking in this thing in confined spaces," Stark said apologetically, though his eyes told a different story. They were looking inside the cupboard, scanning the interior. Vernon realised with a thrill of fear that Stark had _meant _to fall over. He had _meant_ to knock open the cupboard door. The visor snapped down and Stark scanned the room more closely.

"Prime Minister, your majesty, members of the Cabinet and Nicky boy? Are you getting this?" Stark said. A reply – Stark must have turned on the speakers, Vernon thought, as a wave of horror swamped him – came, metallically distorted like Stark's own voice. But less so, leaving the voices recognisable.

"Loud and clear, Mr Stark, we can see and hear everything," the Prime Minister said calmly. Vernon nearly fainted. "To confirm, we can see and hear everything. And Director Fury would like to register his displeasure at being called 'Nicky Boy'."

"I'm sure he would. This doesn't look like it's been used in several years, but JARVIS says that according to his scans, it was used almost constantly for at least ten years. If I had to guess, Harry was moved out when he got to Hogwarts age," Stark said.

His voice was cold, clinical, even warped by the suit. "If I had to guess further, I'd say that the precise addressing of the Hogwarts letter frightened these people into giving him a better room. They probably thought retribution for the crimes was coming and hoped to cut it off. I've pulled some files relating to Harry and it says that any attempt to intervene was cut off by bribery or influence. The money's coming from two sources, as the files that should be appearing on your screen now will show. One's the Dursley family account and the other is unknown. I can follow it if you want."

"Thank you Mr Stark. Since you have shown on repeated occasions that her Majesty's government cannot keep you out of its personal files and that you can run rings around all our computer experts, your help would be much appreciated," the Prime Minister replied dryly. "I think we have enough evidence to show that Harry is being mistreated, and the question of blood wards is somewhat moot when young master Potter can spend his summers in Asgard or the Avengers Tower. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Cabinet, Colonel Fury, James Potter – do you prefer Thor? James it is then -, your Majesty, the only question that remains is whether the Dursleys face Asgardian justice, or British justice. After all, it was one of Asgard's citizens that was harmed, and I think we could make a case for extradition."

"Asgard's citizens? The freaks a wizard, not a god! I would know, I knew his parents," Vernon said, before he could stop himself. The temperature dropped, then a very familiar voice came over the intercom.

"Did that useless fat arse just call my son a _freak_?" James Potter said slowly, sounding as if he was beyond rage and into the oceans of calm, calculated fury beyond. "Sorry your majesty."

"No offence is taken by your language, my Royal Cousin of Asgard," her majesty replied. "We understand what it is like to want to protect one's children."

"Mr Potter, I understand your anger –" the Prime Minister said, then there was a loud crash. "Bugger. He's gone. Stark, I'm willing to bet the next election that he's coming your way."

"Oh Christ," Stark said. "Yeah, you're right, he's coming this way. He'll be here in about sixty seconds."

Vernon heard thunder outside, and when he looked out the window, he saw ominous dark grey storm clouds gathering at an unnatural rate.

"Oh, you've pissed him off now," Stark said, sounding slightly gleeful. "Mistreating the son of the God of Thunder is a bad idea."

"What is he going to do to us?" Vernon asked.

"Well, put it this way. The only reason this house hasn't yet been hit by a thunderbolt the size of the Empire State building is because I'm in here," Stark said lazily.

Vernon whimpered.

"Don't worry, I'll persuade him not to smite you. If only because what is actually going to happen is more painful, protracted and satisfying," Stark said, as Thor landed outside the house and strode in, wearing his James Potter form and his Asgardian armour. Vernon whimpered again.

"Dursley," Thor snarled, drawing back his fist. Petunia had come through by this time, and shrieked.

"Vernon, what is happening?" she asked, as a truly enormous storm brewed outside.

"Justice," Thor spat. "Justice, Petunia _Evans_, at least a decade overdue!"

"You! James Potter," she whispered.

"I go by Thor these days," Thor said coldly as Vernon cowered. Petunia shrieked, as her son, Dudley hid behind her. Since he was a good deal wider than his mother, the effect was much like an elephant trying to hide behind a stick, but he was making a valiant effort.

"Thor, smiting them will be less fun," Tony said, restraining Thor. "Remember the plan. Be reasonable."

"I am not the God of Reason and Understanding! I am the God of Thunder and Lightning!" Thor roared. A lightning bolt gouged a ten foot long trench in the Dursley's lawn to underscore this.

"Yeah we get it big guy, but save the smiting," Tony said. "You're meant to be setting an example for Harry, remember?"

Thor calmed down. "Thank you Tony." He looked once more at the Dursleys, glancing distastefully at the wet patch on Vernon's trousers. "There will be a reckoning, Vernon, Petunia. You want to count on one thing? Count on that." Then he strode out and flew off.

"He's probably gone to hit something," Tony said. "Now, I've always wanted to do this: Vernon Dursley, Petunia Dursley and Dudley Dursley, you are all under arrest in the name of the Crown. Come quietly or I'll bounce you off the walls until you do."

They came quietly, much to Tony's voluble disappointment ("Why do I never get to hit people? It's always Thor, Bruce or Natasha."), and were bundled into a police car.

Petunia was thinking about her predicament. One moment, the Dursleys had been a prosperous, well respected family, and thoroughly normal. The next, Tony Stark had exposed their most shameful secret.

The freak that was, not their treatment of him, which he deserved, no matter what anyone else thought, like cousin Elaine, her husband John and their freak daughter Jean. If it wasn't for the shocking revelation that her good for nothing and very dead freak of a brother-in-law was in fact, not dead and the Norse God of Thunder, she'd have thought it was them or some other freak sympathiser that was behind this.

She looked at Vernon. He looked like he'd gone into shock and he was deathly pale.

"I can't believe it," he whispered.

"Neither can I, dear," she said.

They were silent for the rest of the car ride. When they got out, outside a non-descript concrete building, they were surrounded by police, black suited men and women who looked like chartered accountants, but could probably kill you with their pinky finger, and men and women in tight uniforms who looked like they could probably kill you with their pinky finger, but could probably work as chartered accountants.

"Mummy," Dudley said suddenly. "Are they going to kill us?"

Before Petunia could answer, a voice she never thought she'd hear again spoke up. "Oh no, Mister Dursley," Fury said, stepping into view. "We aren't going to kill any of you. You are going into care, while your parents are on a one way route to jail."

"We have rights!" Vernon suddenly said. "You can't do this!"

"Yes, Mister Dursley, I can. And I can do a lot worse if you piss me off even more than you have already. For now, just count yourself lucky that we persuaded Thor to let you face human justice. Otherwise you and your wife would be in the not very tender care of Loki right now," Fury said. "And between you and me, all that's really changed about him is which side he fights for. And you abused his nephew, so I think you should realise that you are luckier than you deserve to be."

"You," Petunia whispered, finding her voice.

"Yes. Me, Petunia," Fury said, single eye glinting. "I am _very _angry with you, young lady. When you were younger, I thought you would be fortunate if you were half the woman your sister was, magic aside. Now… you aren't fit to lick her shoes. Your parents would be ashamed of you."

Petunia sneered. "They supported my freak of a sister, they always did. They _preferred _her. I don't care what they would think."

"Since you were a total bitch from after Lily got her letter, I wouldn't be surprised if they did," Fury retorted. "As it was, they loved you both equally, even if you made it damn difficult for them _not _to prefer Lily. And frankly, if you don't care about what they would have thought, you're even more of a hopeless cause than I thought."

"Petunia dear," Vernon muttered. "Do you _know _this man?"

"Yes," she spat. "I do. He's Agent Fury of SHIELD. He worked for my parents."

"It's _Director _Fury now. I run SHIELD," Fury said.

"Lost an eye, I see," Petunia said haughtily.

"Yeah, avenging the sister you didn't damn well deserve," Fury confirmed coldly. "Besides, I only need one eye to see you for what you are: a jealous little girl who turned into a bitter middle aged woman who married a man who puts the ass in jackass. You didn't grow up, Petunia. You just got older."

"How dare you speak that way to my wife!" Vernon demanded, going purple, having apparently forgotten that he was very badly outnumbered and outmatched.

"Very easily. Now, shut the fuck up, or I will personally shove your undersized head up your oversized ass," Fury said, glaring.

Vernon shut up.

"Mummy," Dudley whined. "I'm hungry. I want to go home."

"You don't have a home, kid," Fury said bluntly. "It was demolished an hour ago. All your stuff has been donated to charity. And you're going to be hungry for quite a long time. In case you were wondering, your rights went out the window a _long _time ago." He looked grimly triumphant. An agent handed him some newspapers.

"Ah. Tomorrow's papers, early," Fury said. "'A nation's shame: Shocking child abuse case in Surrey'," he read aloud. "Yesterday – that's today, by the way – Britain discovered that it had been playing host to the lost child of Thor, Norse God of Thunder and an Avenger. Details are naturally kept under wraps, but it is believed that the child was born to a human woman while Thor was undergoing a period of exile on Earth to learn humility, under the enforced belief that he was human, something enforced by his spirit inhabiting a human body from that body's birth. Both he and his wife worked for the Intelligence Services. The family was consequently targeted by a terrorist called Tom Riddle, and his followers, who were known as the Death Eaters, and on Halloween twelve years ago, they were attacked. Both parents and Riddle were killed – though it is rumoured that Riddle still survives. Thor was apparently returned to Asgard by his body's death, where the trauma caused him to repress the memories of his life on Earth. The child, unaware of his true heritage, was given into the care of relatives. When he started manifesting abilities that derived from his inhuman heritage, they started mistreating him, calling him a 'freak' and keeping him in an understairs cupboard while an upstairs bedroom went begging. A culture of silence surrounded the local middle class community, which did not comment on the mistreatment. Any and all inquiries by Child Services were redirected or stymied by an unknown factor.'" Fury said.

He flipped through the paper. "Yeah, they go on for a while, but it ends with this: 'undoubtedly this is a tragedy and a case that should make any reader ashamed to be human, let alone to ashamed to be British. All we can do is be thankful that Thor's son is now in his father's care and that Asgard holds only the perpetrators responsible.'"

Fury flipped the paper round. "And look. Photos of you all, with named captions. And information on your former place of work, Mister Dursley, which has hurriedly denied that it had any knowledge of your abuse, indeed, any knowledge that you had a nephew at all."

Vernon whimpered.

"You see," Fury said. "What you're getting now is a taste of how Harry felt all those years. He was hated, reviled because of who he was, at the mercy of others who might just hurt him because they felt like it. Welcome, Dursleys, to Harry's former life. Welcome to hell."

The Dursleys simultaneously whimpered. Fury smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I hope you survive the experience," he said. He glanced at a darkly handsome black suited man who, Petunia noted absently, bore a striking resemblance to one of Lily's freak friends, with an eye patch. "Take 'em away, Wisdom," Fury said.

The man nodded, and a couple of burly agents dragged the Dursleys into the building. Vernon and Petunia were never seen again, save for a few court appearances. Dudley went into care, where he was bullied for his weight. The name Dursley became only marginally less reviled than Hitler as the paper's whipped up a storm. Analysts noted that the names 'Vernon', 'Petunia' and 'Dudley' all but dropped out of usage over the following years. They went down as one of the most hated families in history, thanks to imaginative manipulation of the internet and the papers by Tony Stark. The revenge was complete.

**And that is the long awaited revenge, along with an extra-long chapter. Some people have asked why I'm not providing quick updates with all the stuff I have written up. The simple answer is that 232 of the 344 pages written up so far (including that which is already posted, all 42 pages of it, leaving 70 pages) is fifth year onwards, when the fic starts to bulk out and hit its stride, delving more into Marvel. Oh, and the fact that I'm in my final year of school (Americans, I'm the equivalent of a High School Senior) exams and have issues such as university, coursework and revision to contend with means that updates will be slower than I might like. **

**Oh, and the 'God of Badassery' line? I borrowed that from the awesome Twitter user 'GodOfBadassery', whose tweets are very in character for Loki and well worth checking out.**

**By the way, there is a poll on my profile about shipping. I've already made my shipping choices, but the differing viewpoints interest me. The result so far have been... interesting.**


	5. Chapter 5: Understanding

**On the Snape bashing – this is a fic largely written from the point of view of Harry and James/Thor. Both of whom have no reason to like Snape. They don't know about his redeeming qualities, which are few and far between. Snape was a good guy in the books, but he was also a jackass. It was only Alan Rickman's awesome performances that made him sympathetic. **

**He may get a bit nastier than he was in canon, but he won't be a bad guy – and that's because he has to see his childhood rival become internationally adored, politically powerful, personally powerful and quite literally as rich as a god, something which is bound to make him even sourer than before. And that's the thing about Snape: he's a bitter old man who can't let go of the past.**

**Oh, on the goof up? It happened when I was replacing Dudley with Neville as a major character later on, and I got lazy and used find and replace on Microsoft Word. Mea Culpa and all that.**

**By the way, we're barely a tenth of the way through this fic - not including the sequels. I'll probably go through Harry's third year fast, fourth year a bit slower, fifth year at about the same pace as the fourth, then after Order of the Phoenix, the story will begin to grow and develop at a more leisurely pace. So yes, I can't wait to get to the interesting bits.**

**Oh, and over 100 reviews for the last chapter? You people are awesome and I love every single one of you to pieces.**

Harry was finally out of the Hospital Wing, and he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts alone. Wherever he went, people whispered. It was annoying, but at least they weren't whispering about anything bad this time.

_Isn't weird that his dad's back from the dead?_

_He's a god, what do you expect?_

_True. But why doesn't Harry have his powers?_

_Maybe it's like magic – it doesn't develop until a certain age. Besides, who says he doesn't? I mean, he killed a basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor last year, and he fought a full grown dark wizard the year before. And don't forget the Troll. Surely that's a sign of something special?_

_Yeah, I guess… and I suppose he is good at Defence and Charms. And he's a parselmouth. Maybe he inherited that from Loki via his dad._

_Maybe._

Under the circumstances, curious and ambivalent was probably the best he was going to get, he thought.

A couple of corridors later, he was alone. Except for one other. Draco Malfoy.

Harry's hand went to his wand.

"I'm not here to fight, Potter," Draco said calmly. He smirked slightly, and Harry noted that he sounded different. Older. More mature. "Come, we may be enemies, but at least credit me with a sense of self preservation." He raised his hands. They were empty.

Harry relaxed.

"And this whole enemies thing… well I've been thinking. Being Death Eater spawn really isn't all it's cracked up to be," Draco said. "I was a bigoted fool when I came here. I didn't realise the integral role that people like Weasley play." He smiled sharply. "What is a leader without his followers, after all? Every great building needs its foundations. People like the Weasley family are necessary, and useful. They have undoubted talent in certain areas."

"You're talking about them like they're tools. Means to an end," Harry said.

"Not quite. I am merely saying that it is wrong to dismiss them for being poor," Draco said. "When you think about it, it really is rather remarkable what they have achieved with so little: one is a world class curse breaker, another is an international level Quidditch player and an expert on wrangling dragons, yet another looks destined for high office in the Ministry with enough ambition for any Slytherin, and the terrible twosome are remarkably… inventive. Even Ronald seems to have talents. Chess is not to be sniffed at – it is a game of high strategy and skill at it is often indicative of high intelligence. Even if said intelligence is otherwise not apparent." He paced. "Then there is Granger's undoubted brilliance and you…" Unsettling clever and intense grey eyes settled on Harry, really looking at him for the first time. "Intelligent, strong willed, a survivor… with more cunning and power than most would credit you with," he murmured and inclined his head. "I misjudged you before, Harry."

"Are you sucking up to me?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Draco laughed. "Do I look like Cornelius Fudge?" he asked, amused. "No. I am merely letting you know that I hold you and your friends in somewhat higher regard and that I do not intend to harass you anymore." There was definitely something different about him.

"Why are you being friendly, Malfoy?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I make it a policy not to piss off gods. You are also of royal blood, something that any enemy of yours would hesitate at," Draco said simply. "That and Loki is the patron of Slytherin House. I'm not on your side, and I am not on You-Know-Who's side. I am on my side. The winning side. But if it helps, while I am not fond of mud – _muggleborns, _I respect their capabilities. I am also decidedly not in favour of the return of an incredibly powerful genocidal maniac. Among other things, it's bad for business."

Harry eyed him carefully, then said, "You might want to talk with Loki at some point, if business is what you're interested in."

"Oh, I've already invested heavily in Stark Industries," Draco replied casually. "Maybe I can help fund Granger in some research project on combining magic and technology."

"Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked in puzzlement.

"Oh, I'm still Draco, Harry. The game has changed, and I am changing with it," Draco replied. "I bid you good day." As he left, Harry watching in confusion, he smiled. The voice that had started whispering in his ear two months ago had yet to lead him wrong. It would take him to greatness, he was sure. It didn't seem to have a name, but it did let him call it Ariel. Why that was, he was not sure.

_Call it a joke on my part, young Malfoy_, the morally ambiguous angel on his shoulder said._ Come, we have much work to do._

He smiled. Yes. They did. After all, terrorism was such an unsubtle and inefficient route to power. Fear only lasted so long. People forgot their fear, and it became anger. That was dangerous. But love… that lasted, as long as it was carefully maintained. Those that were content were less likely to rock the boat.

His personal advisor – though he considered the other to be more of a teacher and a guide than an equal – had explained all this to him. All this and more. He smiled again. Life was definitely looking up.

Harry shook his head in puzzlement as Draco left. Then he heard footsteps, and saw his uncle walking in a purposeful stride. Where was he going? Harry resolved to find out. Tailing his uncle through corridor after corridor, thankfully not going up more than one set of stairs, he finally watched him walking into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He waited a few moments, then peeked round the door. There was nothing inside. He slipped through the door, looking around all the while.

"What are you doing?"

Harry yelped and jumped a foot in the air. He swivelled and nearly fell over on coming face to face with a curious Moaning Myrtle. "Looking around," he said slowly.

"Oh," Myrtle said, disappointed. "I thought you'd come to see me."

"No. Sorry," Harry said, tone apologetic. "Look, did you see a tall, dark haired man with eyes like mine walk in a couple of minutes ago."

"Yes. He hissed, and the sink opened up for him. Then he disappeared," Myrtle said. She lowered her voice. "He went down into the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry frowned in thought. "Thanks," he said, then went up to the sink, and hissed, "_Open up."_

He stood back as the sink opened up. He looked down the dark, forbidding chute. Last time he'd been down there, he'd been with Ron and Lockhart. He'd nearly died. Ginny had nearly died. She'd been hurt – something which bothered him in a less abstract fashion than it once had. He gulped. There wasn't a basilisk down there anymore. And if something went wrong, his uncle could protect him – maybe the reason he'd gone down there in the first place was because he knew about the Chamber, and since he taught the Founders, he probably did. He smiled slightly and remembered something a character he liked on muggle television called 'The Doctor' liked to say.

"_Allons-y!"_

He leapt down the chute.

The ride down was both terrifying and wildly exciting. Wincing as he landed with a thump on the further decomposed bodies of rats and mice, he stood up and took stock. It was all silent. Except for the gentle sound of weeping up ahead. Quickly, he moved forward and came upon a scene that shocked him. Loki was sitting by the head of the very dead basilisk, completely ignoring the smell of decay, and stroking its scales.

"I came too late," he whispered. "You can come in, Harry?"

"How did you know I was there?"

Loki smiled slightly. "I saw you out of the corner of my eye, a few times, then I heard you land on the pile of bones when fell down the chute."

"It –"

"She," Loki corrected.

"She… she was yours, Uncle?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling horrendously guilty.

Loki sighed, and nodded. "Yes, yes she was. I passed her onto Salazar as he was the one who had the gift of speaking to snakes," he said, and looked sadly down at the basilisk, gently stroking her faded green scales. "That was a mistake. Sally always loved the students, those who did not fear her for her power, and she had no care as to whether they were muggleborn or otherwise. How could she? Snakes have no concept of blood purity."

"Then why did she attack students?" Harry asked

"Because Salazar worked an old magic that bound her to his bloodline. She could not disobey a master who came from his blood," Loki said. "That is why I and Godric drove him from the castle." Loki looked distant. "Salazar was powerful, skilled and he had the favour of some dark being, a dark, goblin like creature that granted him power. Great power, and great, deadly knowledge. Both of these 'gifts' warped him, turning his just caution to evil purpose. It took my full power and skill and Godric accessing the full gift of his bloodline, power that granted him the greatest mastery of fire magic and mind magic that I have ever seen, to defeat him. It devastated the land around the castle, but eventually, we triumphed." He sighed. "Sally went with Salazar that time, and did not return to the castle until long after I left."

"And you wanted to see if she was all right," Harry said.

Loki nodded mournfully. "But I was too late. Salazar's heir used her as a weapon, recently, and some brave young person put her down." He gestured at her mouth. "The killing blow went up through the roof of the mouth into the brain. It would have been quick."

"What… what would you want to say to the person that killed her?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"I would thank them," Loki said. "As, I suspect, would she. She did not want to be used as a weapon, and it would have grieved her greatly to be forced to kill the students she so loved."

"Uncle Loki it -"

"Was you. I know. Albus mentioned that you had used the Sword of Gryffindor last year when I saw it and asked," Loki said softly. "You gave my friend peace, Harry. And if I could not save her, that is the next best thing. I do not blame you for killing her. Even though you speak the tongue of the serpents, she would not have been able to listen."

"Still," Harry said, kneeling down beside her. "I'm sorry she's dead. I have been ever since I killed her."

Loki stared at him. "Why is that?"

"Because she was as much a victim of Riddle as Ginny was," Harry said, gently stroking the snake's scales. "She was being used as a puppet, and that wasn't fair. When Riddle pays for his crimes, this one'll be near the top of the list."

Loki smiled. "Maybe we should name you Harry the Just," he said lightly, but there was a wealth of pride behind those words, causing Harry to blush. He gestured, and basilisk began to disappear. "I shall take from her that which can be used again, her last gift," he said firmly. "The rest shall have an honourable burial. She is beyond where Riddle can hurt her now."

He slipped an arm around Harry's shoulders. "She would have thanked you, for what you did," he said quietly. "And so do I." He smiled. "If I remember correctly, the kitchens are right beside where Helga's students lived, and I'm in the mood for a snack." He glanced down at Harry's robes and grimaced. "You, young man, are a mess." He gestured, and the dirt flew off. "One of the first things I'm teaching you is cleaning charms. And levitation."

"Levitation…" Harry said slowly, then his eyes widened. "Uncle Loki… can you _fly?_"

"Not half as well as your father, or even as well as you do on a broomstick, but I can fly. And fly fast," Loki said. "Though I prefer teleportation." He made a rude noise. "Your fellow wand wavers call it apparition. In truth it is a bastardised form of the old art."

Harry looked puzzled, and Loki explained. "Among other things, my teleportation is silent. Apparition makes a popping crack every time it is performed, rather reducing its abilities as a both a weapon and a matter of discretion, especially in this age when mortal man gets so justly jumpy around explosions." He sighed. "It is also smooth, like stepping through a doorway."

"What's apparition like?"

"According to Professor Lupin, being pulled through a rubber tube that is about six sizes too small," Loki said. He shrugged. "It only took me fifteen minutes to teach him and Albus how to teleport – it was just a matter of correcting technique – though it may be sometime before they are comfortable using it on a regular basis. Old habits and all that."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, and they passed the rest of the trip to the kitchens in silence. The house elves were… effusive. It turned out that their ancestors had been brownies who had served Loki, and therefore, they treated him like the god that Harry supposed he was. He wouldn't have minded this if they hadn't included him in this worship as well.

"Mr Prince Harry Potter sir!" one cried, bowing so low that its batlike ears and long nose scraped the floor. "Is you wanting anything from the kitchens? Is there anything we can be doing for you?"

This was just one of a deluge of questions asked, and supplications performed by the as ever over-excited House Elves.

Harry was about to open his mouth to protest at his royal treatment, when Loki drew him off to one side, smoothly saying to the elves, "I am glad to see that the old ways are retained, and I gladdens my heart to see that the children of my steadfast servants of old flourish and retain their remarkable and praiseworthy loyalty. However, I must briefly speak with my nephew in private, as we have much to speak of." He conjured a privacy bubble and smiled kindly. "Still not fond of being worshipped, eh?"

Harry nodded. "I don't like…" he said, struggling for words.

"Being singled out for who you are as opposed to what you can do?" Loki asked.

Harry nodded.

Loki looked sympathetic. "I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to it," he said. "You are the son of Thor, second in line to the throne of Asgard. We have managed to keep your identity secret in the mortal world for now, but all the other realms clamour to know more about and meet the son of the mighty Thor." He looked Harry steadily in the eye. "We of Asgard, though we aren't truly immortal, are so close that it makes very little difference, particularly in the eyes of mortals. This means that we generally have children fairly rarely. A new child is something to be remarked upon. A new royal child… now that is something that happens maybe once every three centuries. At most."

Harry's eyes bugged out.

"Asgard is the most powerful and advanced of the Nine Realms," Loki continued. "And I dare say that many of our enemies were hoping that neither I nor Thor would produce an heir, and that we would die before we got the chance. Now, with your existence, a lot of them will have to re-evaluate their plans. They will have to re-examine their relations with Asgard, gear their expectations towards a nation with a true line of succession. Powerful families will resent your presence – they will have hoped to marry into the royal family and have their daughter produce Thor's successor."

Harry looked deep in thought. "So… I've got lots of new enemies," he said. Loki nodded. "Great," Harry drawled. "More people who hate me because of my family. Just what I need."

"You also have far more who love you because of who you are, and your new friends both outweigh the numbers of your new enemies, but are more powerful as well," Loki replied. "No one will dare move against you in any overt fashion, because they that to do so would invite the wrath of the Allfather, Thor, and myself, not to mention a good 95% of Asgard. The people of Asgard are very loyal to the royal family, and Thor is particularly beloved."

Harry looked half relieved, half annoyed. Then he laughed a little.

"What is it?" Loki asked.

Harry just shook his head wryly. "Most kids would give all they had to be where I am now. And no offence, I'm glad to have you and dad, it's just..."

"You only ever wanted to be normal," Loki said, nodding. "I understand that. Not truly, I suppose, for I have never been normal." This was not said with the arrogant tone one might expect. It was quite simply a statement of fact. Loki was not normal, not by any standards. "But the desire to fit in, to be accepted as you are… now that I understand _very _well." He sighed and took Harry's hand. "You are a good boy, Harry, and I am certain that those who you regard as your friends will treat as they always have." His lips twitched. "In the case of my twin apprentices, with a heavy dose of teasing."

Harry chuckled slightly.

"But you have to accept that you are no longer entirely human. You are no longer mortal. You are half of Asgard, even if the effects of your Asgardian spirit have yet to show themselves," Loki said. "I do not want you to abandon your humanity, for that would be a grievous loss, and both I and your father have learned and prospered from humanity. What you need to do is accept that you are no longer just mortal. You are of Asgard, of royal blood, and you, Harry James Potter, are heir to a legacy that you cannot even begin to understand."

He sat back. "You have much to learn about being royalty. But a couple of key lessons I can teach you now. One, be confident when people are deferring to you, but not arrogant. Two, you will find that some people, like House Elves, are more comfortable in deferential roles. One of my mistakes when I was mad was assuming that mankind would be the same." He chuckled dryly. "I found out that it was wrong the hard way. Do you remember the elderly gentleman who stood up to me in Stuttgart?"

Harry nodded. The footage of the old man's defiance in the face of a mad god had gone viral, getting a million views under the title 'Badass Grandpa sticks it to Loki'.

"I wrote a letter to him, thanking him for the object lesson in the courage of humanity, and his reminder that I was not so different to mortal tyrants. It was a speech that I spent much time reflecting on during my redemption," Loki said. "I received a very nice reply, as a matter of fact." He shook himself back to the present. "Anyway, some will want to be treated as equals. Unless you are in a formal setting and they are worthy of respect, there is no reason not to treat them as such. But House Elves will, for the most part, be unsettled if you treat them as wizards. Treat them fairly, treat them justly, but do not shy away from politely accepting their deference." He looked at Harry who was deep in thought. "I am confusing you a little, aren't I?"

"A little," Harry admitted. "But I think I get it. But isn't humility one of the things dad came to Earth to learn."

Loki nodded approvingly. "Exactly. It is a fine balance." He glanced at the elves. "Now, I will teach you more later. But for now… I'm a little hungry. What about you?"

Harry nodded and gulped slightly. Loki lowered the privacy bubble, and Harry had his first practical lesson in the nature of royalty.

"Hi Jane," Pepper said, walking over and sitting down next to a pensive looking Jane. The younger woman had arrived just that morning from Asgard and had been thoughtful ever since. That was a good sign, as compared to ranting and raving, but Pepper might still need to provide a little bit of cajoling.

She'd told Thor that she would speak to Jane on his behalf and she would. She got the feeling that James Potter had been very like Tony – smooth, charming, but with very little grasp of basic tact, and Thor was not exactly the most eloquent – or with his syntax and vocabulary, both charmingly several centuries out of date, comprehensible - of speakers. Jane had arrived earlier that day, and had been sitting around and looking thoughtful for most of it – which was an improvement on the worst case scenario of tears and anger, however rational or irrational, that Pepper had feared.

However, she hadn't considered it likely. Jane was clever, thoughtful and her nature as a deeply methodical scientist meant that she wasn't over-inclined to jump to conclusions, unlike Tony, whose scientific process mostly involved leaping from one bit of inspiration to the next, which led to him invariably jumping to conclusions. Unless she was involved. It was quite staggering, Pepper thought, when you realised that the man you loved trusted you implicitly in a way he trusted literally no one else.

"Oh, hey Pepper," Jane said.

After a long moment, Pepper said conversationally, "It's hard for Thor too, you know."

"What?"

"Suddenly becoming a dad. He's also just got around twenty years of memories to deal with, along with the sudden knowledge that he had a wife and she's dead," Pepper said. "The only person who's really equipped to understand him is Steve. It's torn him up inside. When he came to the Avengers tower a couple of nights back to tell us all, when he related his story, he was crying openly, which is something that Sif, Loki and the Warriors Three have all told me that Thor normally does not do under _any_ circumstances."

Jane blinked in shock. "He was _crying?"_ she exclaimed.

Pepper nodded. "Uh-huh, though I reckon it was a one off. That much emotional turmoil will push anyone to the limit. And the poor man's confused. He's just regained an entire lifetime of memories. He loves you dearly, but he misses and grieves for his wife, who from the perspective of his regained memories, he only lost a few days ago. He also has to deal with raising a teenage magical son who's also adjusting to having a father. From what I hear, he also has a prophecy hanging over his head, an even stronger tendency to wander into trouble than Tony and a hero complex easily as big as his dad's. Oh, and his best friend from that time is a possibly insane fugitive from injustice and one of his other best friends betrayed himself and his wife to death."

"Whoa," Jane said quietly. "It's just…"

"You thought you knew him," Pepper said. "You thought you finally understood him, knew what made him tick and now suddenly all of this happens and you don't know which way is up."

"How…" Jane asked, awed.

"Honey, you're talking to the woman who has run Tony Stark's life for the past decade. I've got previous on having your entire world turned upside down," Pepper said with a smile.

"Oh," Jane said.

"My advice would be to support him, to let him know that you love him and are there for him," Pepper suggested. "Chat to Harry. He's a good kid, and he and Loki get on like a house on fire, which is more than a little worrying now that I come to think of it."

Jane chuckled. "I'm guessing that the insurance premiums on the Avengers tower are going to go up again," she said.

"No, thankfully Thor can fix all the damage with a wave of his wand, if Loki isn't around or can't be bothered to do it. Or caused it in the first place, for that matter," Pepper said, then sighed as Jane started giggling at the unintentional innuendo.

"_That_ wand only works for you," Pepper said dryly. "I don't want to know if it has special magical powers."

"Oh it does," Jane said dreamily. She opened her mouth.

"No, Jane," Pepper said firmly. "I said I didn't want to know."

"But –"

"Save it for Darcy," Pepper said. "She'll doubtless pump you for all the details." She frowned. "Wouldn't you have told her already? I mean, you and Thor have been going out for what, two years now?"

"I give her snippets every now and then," Jane said, smiling slightly. "Enough to keep her from bugging me about it, but not enough to make her bug me about something else."

"That's… very devious."

"I've been learning from the best," Jane said with a shrug.

"I suppose you have," Pepper murmured.

Jane smiled. "All right," she said, shrugging. "No more TMI." She smiled. "Have you met Thor's son yet? What's he like?"

Pepper shook her head. "Not yet, but from what Thor tells me, he's a good kid."

Jane nodded. "If he's his father's son, he can't fail to be," she said firmly.

Pepper smiled. Everything seemed to be on track.

**The results of the polls are in, and like I told you, it was already decided. This was an opinion poll. **

**Hermione, interestingly enough, was the top, but this wasn't surprising. I see Harry and Hermione as Brother and Sister, though I am not averse to the occasional HHr fic, as long as Character Bashing is not present.**

**Emma Frost, even less. For obvious reasons.**

**Jean is unsurprising as well – Harry's penchant for redheads is both well-known and a matter that shall be remarked upon repeatedly. They will be close. That is guaranteed. How close? *scoffs* Like I'm going to tell you.**

**Susan Bones and Angelica Jones were quite surprising, being very little known characters (well, Susan is known rather better than Angelica), but then again – redheads. And I suppose I did set it at a max of two choices.**

**Ginny – for some reason a large portion of fans have an aversion to her. Not to worry anti-Ginny fans, she will get a good deal of character development, and she won't be Harry's soul mate (that is someone else entirely – not Hermione). **

**Felicia Hardy… yeah, red herring. Harry won't like her very much. **

**Gwen and MJ will figure more in Harry's life than one might expect, and both will be his most trusted friends and confidants. All I will say is that MJ is Peter's soul mate and vice versa. Gwen will be more of an enigma… maybe she'll be paired Neville. Maybe not. She's a difficult character to decide about.**

**Cho… yeah, it'll go much as canon, but with the fact that Harry very quickly figures out exactly why Cho likes him.**


	6. Chapter 6: This Family Thing

**Well, I'm sorry for the wait, and I'm afraid you'll have another one. I have lots of exams and lots of work, so you may not see a chapter for a while (on the other hand, I tend to write when stressed, so who knows?) **

**In return, you get what is the longest chapter I have written in my life. While the rest of the Avengers don't make an onscreen appearance (Clint and Natasha appear at the end, but aren't seen), the next chapter will feature each and every one of Earth's Mightiest heroes. **

**Also, I've written over 195,000 words of this fic alone. I'm considering splitting it in two – please tell me if you agree or not. I may take a poll.**

**Unnamed Guest who reviewed at least for chapters: My, you have been a very busy little bee. Questions paraphrased and answered:**

**How does he know who they are? Dumbledore is something of a scholar and, as Headmaster, he's tapped into Hogwarts, who recognises her old master in Loki. He also got a basic scan of Thor's mind. **

**Why doesn't Harry respond at first? He's in shock. Complete and utter shock.**

**Why the explanation? Mostly to keep the students from being too inquisitive.**

**Why do only older students confront him/how do they know him? Only older students have the power / cojones to even consider confronting Loki. The appearance of a Norse God is something that would likely grab the magical world's attention.**

**Why isn't James spending time with Harry? James/Thor is a bit of a mental mess and wants to get things done so he can spend time with his son.**

**Wouldn't Dumbledore and Steve knowing each other shatter the Statue of Secrecy? Steve dealt with a lot of top secret stuff, and it makes sense that if Grindelwald worked with the Nazi's, Dumbledore would work with the Allies, SSR in particular.**

**How do wizards know about the Avengers? The Prophet reported on it. The invasion of a Norse God is something even the Magical World will pay attention to.**

**Why were the Death Eaters reported on? Eh, it's about the right time period that Riddle could conceivably have been portrayed as a spinoff of the IRA. Britain had pretty serious problems with domestic terrorism from the late sixties to the nineties. **

**Why are the papers so vehement? They want to distance themselves from the Dursleys.**

**Simsalib: One piece of advice – read the chapter closely before reviewing. Better yet, read the other chapters first. This is a good three years after the Avengers. Loki is a good guy these days. And we've only seen the nicer side of his personality so far.**

**I will admit that maybe it could have done with more emotion. I will also admit that that is not my strong suit and I wanted to get the chapter over with, hence why it is a little rushed.**

**On timeline changes – in this verse, Harry is born in 1993. Call it a compromise between his canon birth year and the Avengers time.**

His father was alive. The dearly departed James Potter, the war hero who had attacked Voldemort himself with his bare hands in a desperate attempt to protect his wife and son, the man who Harry had been told he looked like by just about everyone he met – not forgetting, of course, the caveat 'but you have your mother's eyes' – and the person who Harry had always, consciously or otherwise, wondered if he measured up to, was alive.

It was only really hitting him now, Harry thought, as he looked out the window. It was well into November, and Autumn was relinquishing its hold on Hogwarts in favour of Winter. Frost rimed the windows, the ground was hardening as the mud froze, the water on the grass gleamed like diamonds in the moonlight, and if Harry looked carefully, he could see that the lake was beginning to freeze over at the banks. Did the giant squid get cold? He could ask either Hermione or his uncle in the morning.

That led him back to his father. His feelings for his father were rather complicated by the fact that he also happened to be Thor. While this contributed much to the explanation of why the hell he hadn't been around, it also put Harry's brain through the blender. Having a father who came back from the dead was one thing. Having a father who came back from the dead and also happened to be a bona fide deity… well, not only was it mind bending, it meant that Harry was going to be in for even more fame. He was almost certain that the next issue of the Daily Prophet would be screaming about it, and he was already attracting even more stares and whispers than before, stares and whispers that were growing at an exponential rate.

So. More publicity. Not of the good, as Buffy might say – he'd liked that show. Mrs Figg had let him watch it, though when he made the mistake of telling Uncle Vernon, the belt made an appearance and he'd been locked in the cupboard for two whole days, desperately wishing for his own personal Buffy to come kick down the door, set him free and kick Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's arses. And Dudley's for good measure.

He shook himself and focused his thoughts. Anyway. More fame. Not good. But his dad couldn't really help the fact that he was famous, and hey, maybe he could learn to deal with it better. Some of the things his Uncle Loki – and those were two words he never thought would have occupied the same train of thought, aside from previous idle hopes that Vernon and Loki would meet and Loki would… well, he wasn't sure what he had hoped Loki would do to Vernon, but it wouldn't have been pleasant – had said stuck with him. He was a Prince of Asgard now. He'd long since dumped the idea that this was a fevered dream inspired by Quidditch injuries on the grounds that it was pointless to work under that assumption and that his life was weird enough for this to be possible.

But back to his father. So far, resentment for the additional fame this brought and the complete divorce from any semblance of normality, anger – irrational, Harry admitted – that he hadn't been _there _when Harry needed him. That he hadn't held Harry as he'd cried as a child, he hadn't come to whisk him away from the Dursleys every time who silently begged any being listening for someone to save him, someone to love him, for someone to play the father and take him by the hand.

On the other hand… he had empathy for the fact that his father had had his memories removed by Odin – his grandfather – and Loki being bound by the fact that Odin's word was law, and Odin's word had apparently been for Thor's time as James not to be brought up to, as far as Harry could discern, prevent Thor going mad with grief.

And it was clear that while his father was busy and had flown off – something that rankled slightly, until Loki had explained that he was clearing up matters with some of his friends on Earth, since the first thing he had done on being reminded of Harry's existence was to go to his side and stay there – it was also clear that he loved him very much. He smiled as he remembered his father's embrace, simultaneously tight like he never wanted to let go ever again, and gentle, comforting, with a sense of truly vast strength being carefully restrained. And that, in Harry's mind, was enough to leave him in a state where he was happy with his father. Confused of course – it was still a lot to adjust to, but that was to be expected.

He looked out the window, and smiled. It was snowing. Somehow, just somehow, he got the feeling that his life was looking up. After all, not so long ago, he hadn't had any real family. Now, he had a father, an uncle and grandparents. Yes. Life was looking up. He climbed into bed and went to sleep.

A week passed, and Harry was excited. Professor Dumbledore was letting him go stay with his dad for the weekend, and meet his dad's friends, the Avengers. Like just about every other kid in the Western world, and a lot out of it, he had idolised the Avengers. His favourite had been Loki – with dark hair, green eyes, magic and tragedy in his past, Harry could well identify with him.

He liked Iron Man, because Tony Stark was hilarious, and he liked Captain America and Thor because of the fundamental kindness and decency that they radiated in every television appearance and interview. He'd already met two, who just so happened to be his dad and uncle, and was going to get to meet the rest of them.

He was still getting used to the fact that he actually had a dad and that he no longer had to live with the Dursleys. He was also apparently getting new clothes when they were in New York. Loki had said that a Prince should look like a Prince, and that apparently there were lots of shops, both muggle and magical, that they could go to.

Harry didn't mind the idea of new clothes – Dudley's old stuff was far too big for him - but what he was most looking forward to was spending time with his dad, something that had been a bit restricted over the past few days, what his dad having to re-establish control over the Potter vaults and with the help of Loki, explain how he had a blood right to reclaim – and Harry to inherit - the Potter vaults and not have them parcelled out to the nearest relative that wasn't in Azkaban. This relative happened to be Narcissa Malfoy, which made Draco related to Harry himself.

Once, this would have utterly disgusted Harry. But now, as he put it to Ron, "Malfoy isn't so bad." Indeed, while Malfoy hadn't gone out of his way to talk to either them or Hermione, he had nodded politely when he passed them in the corridors and been civil in every one of the few conversations they had shared.

Ron had been suspicious. "He's a Slytherin. They're always plotting something. I mean, you're uncle's brilliant, but he's always planning, isn't he? And isn't he the patron of Slytherin House?" he'd asked.

"Yeah, but I think that Malfoy isn't plotting against us. I mean, Ron, he's been an irritating bully in the past, but he isn't stupid. And he's a Slytherin, he's not going to want to go against Loki now, is he?"

Ron had nodded his grudging agreement. "He has gone out of his way to be friendly," he grudgingly admitted. To Ron, a Slytherin who wasn't being actively antagonistic was going out of their way to be friendly.

"And he sounds older. Smarter," Harry had added. He looked thoughtful. "It happened really suddenly, though…" he shook his head. "I'll ask my uncle. Anyway, d'you want to hear about dad and uncle Loki meeting with the goblins?"

Ron had, so Harry told him.

* * *

Thor strode towards Gringotts, ignoring the stares he got. He was in his James Potter form, and was well used to being stared at, both as a Prince of Asgard and an Avenger. Once upon a time, he would have invited the stares and played to the crowd. Now, he was older, wiser and more importantly, busier. He could still play to the crowd as well as Tony could – albeit in a different fashion – he just had more immediate issues to deal with.

He glanced slightly to his right. His brother was matching his stride, and attracting a fair few stares himself. And a cry of 'murderer!'

On hearing that, Thor wheeled on the source of the voice, and was about to demand that the speaker show themselves and apologise, when Loki touched his arm. "No, brother," he said softly. "It is an accusation I have more than earned. What would you do? Dispute the truth of it?"

"People shouldn't treat you like a monster," Thor growled. "You aren't that person anymore."

"Violence won't help them see that, brother," Loki replied. "It is just one in a sea of mortals. I am fine."

Thor let himself be led away, but he knew Loki was lying. He could read his brother even better than ever now, and he recognised the look Loki had very, very briefly got on his face when he'd heard the cry. Surprise, hurt, grief and a certain sense of resignation. He'd seen it often enough of Sirius' face in the early years of Hogwarts, when the Slytherins, many of whom he had been related to, started getting at him. He also suspected that, like Sirius, his brother would enjoy talking about it as much as most people enjoyed having their teeth pulled.

Soon, they reached the bank itself and ascended the stairs. Thor looked around the gilded marble halls. The last time he'd been in here, he and Lily had been getting an enlarged money pouch for their time in hiding. If everything went wrong, if Voldemort cracked the Fidelius, they would take it and Harry and run to the continent. He let out a sudden, loud, bitter laugh that drew attention from everyone in the hall. Look how that had worked out. Lily was dead, his happy family life had been ruined… he had lost so much.

But, he thought, he still had his son. He still had Jane. He still had the Avengers, his parents, his brother, Remus, and Sirius, when they found him. That was something. More than something. And Lily would kick his arse if she thought he was moping.

"Brother?" Loki asked gently.

"I'm fine, Loki," Thor said, aware that his voice was slipping into more James like patterns as he unconsciously ran a hand through his hair. He had noticed that the more he thought on his mortal memories, the more he tended to act as he had when he had been James. Even when he didn't, he still had more modern speech patterns, which came as a blessed relief to just about everyone. "Just remembering, is all."

Loki nodded. "The memories are too fresh?"

"A little. But I can manage," Thor said, then looked at the impassive goblin. "We have an appointment with your manager, Ragnok."

"Names?"

"Crown Prince Thor Odinson of Asgard, formerly known as James Potter," Thor said. "And Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard. May I know who I am addressing?"

"I am Griphook, your highness," Griphook said, getting down from his desk and pushing a small button, that opened a door that would easily admit a man of medium height. Neither Thor nor Loki was of medium height. Or, strictly speaking, a man. "The wizards are right, for once," Griphook commented. "Your son does look like you. But if you're Thor, as that hammer indicates, why do you look like that?"

"I was incarnated as James Potter," Thor said, patience slightly frayed. It was a question he had answered many times these past few days. "I normally look as I appear when I am with the Avengers. I can change between the two at will."

"Useful talent," Griphook commented. "Can't remember the last time an Asgardian was in here, except for your brother, and some blonde Asgardian witch with a large, bald minion who was trying to extort money." He smiled toothily. "It didn't go as she might have hoped."

"Did she have a tantrum?" Thor asked.

"One of epic proportions," Griphook asked.

"My apologies for her actions, Griphook. Amora is…"

"A self-obsessed prissy little bitch?" Loki asked venomously. "I have a list of further appropriate adjectives. I had to consult a dictionary for some." To say he had had a bad experience with Amora the Enchantress and her faithful dog, Skurge, was the understatement of the century. It was not one he talked about, and all that was known about it was that the Trickster had come off worse and had ever since nursed a legendary grudge against the Enchantress and the Executioner.

"Brother…"

"Am I wrong? If you had heard some of the things she said when she heard you had married Lily…" Loki said. He smiled viciously. "I defended your lady's honour. And took great pleasure in doing so." He looked at Griphook. "You need not fear her return, Master Griphook. The Allfather banned her from coming to Midgard at my suggestion, to prevent her doing something foolish to Lily."

"If she had touched Lily, I would have killed her," Thor said flatly. "If she touches Harry, I will kill her and if Skurge tries to stop me, I'll ram that precious axe of his up his sorely whipped arse."

Griphook chuckled darkly. "Many a goblin would pay gold to see that."

"If the opportunity ever arises, Master Griphook, I will ensure that if you do not see it, a recording is circulated," Thor said, tone just as dark.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, before reaching a round doorway.

Griphook knocked.

"Enter."

Griphook laid a hand on the door, which shimmered, then rolled aside into a hollow in the wall. "Follow me," he said, and Thor and Loki did, entering a well-appointed office.

"Ah. Prince Thor, Prince Loki," Ragnok said. "You have business?"

"We do, Lord Ragnok," Loki said politely. "My brother was incarnated as James Potter, which means that he inherited the Potter vaults and passed them onto his son. While we have the vault key," he said, withdrawing it from a pocket and holding it up. "There is the small problem that my brother is no longer mortal. While he can change from what once was to what he now is at will," he said, indicating Thor, who shifted to Thor form, then back again. "We are not sure how this affects both his blood and his ownership."

"You fear a legal challenge from Lucius Malfoy by way of his wife," Ragnok deduced, and Loki nodded.

"While we do not need the money as such, there is principle and there is the fact that Malfoy is rich enough and dangerous enough as it is, at stake," Thor interjected.

"Hmm," Ragnok said. "You are in the interesting position of inheriting two different things from what are technically two different fathers. Do you have any plans to puzzle this out?"

This, as Loki was acutely aware, was a test. These goblins were very like the dwarves they were distantly related to. He smiled. "We do. First, we point out that possession is nine tenths of the law, and we possess the key. However, that strategy has flaws. Second, we cite the fact that Thor was, as James, Charlus and Dorea Potter's acknowledged heir, meaning that even if he was no biological relative, he had every right to inherit. Third, when asked if Harry has the right to the Potter name, we explain the circumstances. The body of James Potter was mortal, and acted as the vessel for Thor's spirit. In other words, hewas both man and god, and has equal right to inherit both."

Ragnok smiled toothily. "Very clever, Prince Loki. The stories my people have handed down speak truly. You understand well how to turn the law to your advantage."

"That's what it's there for, isn't it?" Loki asked, tone lightly amused.

Thor coughed. "You're meant to follow it, brother. Not just when it's convenient," he said mildly, well aware that he too had dodged the law when he had had too. Unlike Loki, however, he rarely took such glee in doing so.

"Sometimes, brother, the law restricts too much," Loki said. "It is a fine thing, but no law is perfect. Sometimes it impedes justice."

"True. But you have to distinguish between justice and vengeance."

"Yes, but brother, must we have this discussion here?"

"You started it."

"No, you did."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

Ragnok sat back and smirked. Free entertainment. Always a bonus. And it was rare that non-goblins felt comfortable enough to relax in such a fashion before goblins. Rare and gratifying. While Ragnok was no fonder of wizards than any of his kind, he understood that it was their gold that kept the system going, and he got the feeling that he may have just acquired two very valuable customers. Maybe even allies.

He coughed. "My lords?"

"Yes?"

"I think we can draw up a contract to reaffirm your ownership of the vault. Do you wish for your son to have access?" Ragnok asked.

"Yes," Thor said.

"Any restrictions?"

Thor looked thoughtful. "No. I trust him."

"Thor, you've hardly seen him since he was one and a quarter," Loki said. "He's a good boy, but you can't really get a full gauge of his character."

"Harry Potter does not strike me as a boy who would go on a spending spree like others his age. Not without an extremely unusual reason," Griphook put in.

"Besides," Thor said. "I hardly lack money, Loki. While the Potter accounts only have maybe quarter as much as Stark's fortune, that is approximately…" his lips moved. "300 million galleons. Or £1.5 billion."

Loki stared at him.

"The Potter family goes back millennia and inherited a lot from other pureblood families as they died off, and a good deal of that is tied up in property and valuable artefacts. Also, my mortal father met Howard Stark and was favourable impressed by him, so he invested in Stark Industries. I believe we own a five percent stake," Thor said carelessly.

"Your mortal father had a sound mind for investment," Loki said.

"He did," Ragnok said, grudgingly impressed by both Thor's calculations and the late Charlus Potter's business acumen. "The Potter fortune grew by a good 24.37% from the beginning of his time as head of the family."

"That… that is impressive," Loki said slowly.

"Stark Industries grew by over 500% from the beginning of Charlus Potter's investment. That was a mix of major military contracts and development of the arc reactor which offset the vast majority of energy costs," Ragnok said. Thor stared at him. Ragnok smiled sharply. "Come now, my lord. Did you think that my kind would avoid the ample opportunities for profit that the muggle world provides?"

"No," Thor said slowly. "I suppose not."

"This has been most illuminating," Loki said mildly. "My lord Ragnok, how long will it take to draw up a reaffirmation of my brother's status?"

"We have a blank contract prepared," Ragnok said, and snapped his fingers. Griphook went over to one of the cabinets, rifled through the folders and withdrew a contract. "Griphook, have one of the scribes informed of the particulars of this case, and have it filled out."

Griphook bowed and left.

"That should take fifteen minutes," Ragnok said calmly. "May I offer you a drink? I would like to discuss potential Asgardian investment. Odin Allfather and his father both did good business with my people, creating much profit. If Asgard is to meddle in the mortal worlds once more, the Goblin nations will want to be on… what is the muggle phrase? Ah. The ground floor."

Thor raised an eyebrow, then looked at Loki. "Brother, this is more your department."

Loki smiled. "So it is," he said, voice full of anticipation. Ragnok suddenly got the feeling that negotiating with Loki would be about as easy as parting one of the elder dragons from its gold. Loki leaned forward, smirking. "Now, Lord Ragnok. Let's talk _business_."

* * *

Loki looked at his four apprentices. He was thoroughly enjoying his re-immersion in the Wizarding World. Not only was it good to be surrounded by magic users again, and to be the expert that others turned to the same way they normally turned to Stark and Banner when there was a science based issue, if only to say, 'please stop doing it', he got to see his nephew. And negotiate with goblins. Which was _fun._ While he was a hero these days, he still enjoyed the chance to cajole, trick, manipulate and outwit a worthy opponent. And have the satisfaction of them knowing that he'd beaten them. The only difference was that now he turned such talents to the protection of the Nine Worlds and their people instead of conquest and his own benefit.

Speaking of the Goblin's, Harry had looked both gobsmacked and unbelievably discomfited when Thor had, quietly, informed him of the state of his finances. This was likely to do with the truly vast disparity between the Potter finances and that of the Weasleys, which more closely resembled those of Doctor Banner when he was on the run by comparison to those of Tony Stark.

However, since Lily and James' will had never been executed, Loki had taken the opportunity to, with the approval of Thor, slip in a one hundred thousand galleon endowment to the Weasley family, which was to be used to improve the state of their home, their family and provide for their future, with a suitably mid war flavour statement, 'to either make sure that the fight will continue without us or to at least partially relocate your family to a more peaceful land.'

He drew himself back to the present. "Apprentices," Loki said. "I call you that because that is what you are. While you are in a lesson with me, I will refer to you as Apprentice Thorson, Apprentice Granger and Apprentice Weasley, respectively. You will refer to me as Master. I have the right to ask this of you as I am a Master of Magic. Such mastery, even in the compressed and minimised Midgardian version, is hard earned. It took the Founders five years of constant lessons to achieve it. But even if you do not complete your mastery, you will learn things that your fellows will not have imagined. Including the art of wandless magic. Make no mistake, wands are better for precision work, and will, until you master the art, require less power. But once you master this, you will cast spells with only your will and, at most, a gesture and a word. What you will learn with me includes arts long thought lost, arts known only by the mystic masters of Asgard. You will warp reality, bend the world to your will and the impossible will be to you as the mundane is to others."

All four of his students were listening closely. Good.

"First, you must consciously find your magical core, so you can access it," Loki said. "This will require patience, calm and meditation. Do not fret if by the end of your session you do not even glimpse your core. It took Godric and Salazar five sessions each, Rowena three and a half, and Helga one." He looked at them seriously to make sure they understood this. "This part is not complex. But it isn't easy, either. If it was easy, it would not be worth doing."

He settled into a lotus position. "This is the position I prefer. Try this, then vary it until you are comfortable. After that, close your eyes, and turn your mind inwards. Look for a ball of coloured energy that is intrinsically yours. That is your core." He watched as they did so. Hermione seemed to find it hardest, constantly shifting and rearranging her skirt. Her nose was scrunched up. He smiled inwardly. So like Salazar and Rowena. She was trying too hard. Fred and George seemed to settle in quite easily. He imagined that was because of the sheer number of punishments that had given them time to sit still and think, as well as their bond to one another. A brief interrogation of their brothers and sister had revealed that they had manifested and even appeared to control their accidental magic as children. There were shades of Helga there. And Harry? Harry was taking to it both well and badly. Well because he worked best under pressure and on instinct, but badly because he was a very energetic and active boy. Very like Godric, very like indeed.

He waited for a few minutes, to see if they settled down, then stood up silently and moved around the classroom, offering whispered advice, Hermione to stop trying too hard. She wasn't relaxed enough, not yet, wanting to get it right immediately. The twins to focus on themselves rather than each other – that would probably be their biggest difficulty. For those spells that were either enhanced by or required two casters, they would be a truly fearsome combination. Harry also needed to relax, and to banish some of the more random thoughts from his mind. Loki examined the upper layer of his thoughts with amusement. Teenage boys would be teenage boys, he thought, as he caught Harry idly imagining what Black Widow would look like naked, then getting very hot and bothered about it. Loki suspected he still expected his idle thoughts to be of Quidditch as opposed to the fairer sex, which would be new and uncharted territory for a boy his age.

"Try transferring your focus from the Lady Widow's nakedness to the task at hand, Harry," Loki murmured, so low that the others would not hear. Harry twitched, green eyes flying open and opened his mouth to either deny it or apologise. "No," Loki said. "Do not apologise, I understand. My first lessons were marred by similar thoughts. The trick is not to try not to think about them, it is to focus on something else, and it can serve as a spur."

The time ticked on, and he watched as the twins slipped into easy, slow, breathing that was generally a sign of near completion of the exercise. They wouldn't complete it this session, but they would at the start of the next. Hermione looked on the point of frustrated tears. He would need to talk to her. Harry seemed to be more at ease, and wasn't far off where the twins were, though his focus kept wandering. That would simply have to come with practice. A few words of encouragement, reiteration of advice.

Finally, the lesson ended, and Loki stood. "The lesson is over," he said. "You have all done very well. Fred, George, practice in between sessions. If you manage to complete the exercise before our next lesson, do nothing further. Instead, find me and talk to me, and I'll tell you what to do from there. Harry, excellent, just keep making sure you transfer your focus properly. Hermione, I need to talk to you."

Hermione looked upset, and the other three gave her sympathetic looks, in between whispering to one another, as they left, shutting the door behind them.

As soon as they left, Hermione burst into a frustrated rant. "I can't do it!" she cried. "I'm sorry, Master, I can't! I'm useless, I can't focus on this to save my life!" She looked on the point of angry tears, so Loki cut her off.

"You are rather used to getting everything right first time, are you not, Apprentice Granger?" he asked gently. "And aside from, say, flying, this is the first part of magic you've had real trouble with."

Hermione nodded, face red, bushy hair bouncing. "Yes, and I don't understand! I'm trying, I really am, Master, it's just…"

"You're trying too hard," Loki said. "Because you are impatient. That is often a problem with truly brilliant people, and make no mistake, Apprentice Granger, you are truly brilliant. You want to be first to get it, to win a competition that isn't a competition." He looked serious. "This is not something you can rush, Apprentice Granger. You strike me as a passionate young woman who is ferociously clever and very hardworking. Both Helga and Rowena would have been happy to duel Godric to teach you. However, you are also very highly strung. You need to learn to kick back and relax. Take a cue from your friend Ron. He may not be the highest academic achiever, but I hear that he is an excellent strategist and a chessmaster. A chessmaster does not hurry their moves. They consider every facet of the problem at hand, then act."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Yes, Master."

"Keep trying. Practice before bed and in your free time," Loki advised. "If by the end of the session after next you have made little or no progress, I will put you in touch with Doctor Bruce Banner, who will be able to advise you on how to relax, or how to harness your apparently boundless energy and enthusiasm." Hermione blushed slightly, and nodded.

"Yes, Master," she said, still sounding a little down.

"Hermione, it took even Rowena Ravenclaw three and a half sessions and all the time in between practicing to get it right," Loki said. "I am confident that once you have got past this opening hurdle you will do excellently. But for now, go against your instincts. Relax, and don't be down that you haven't got it yet. You will get it in time." He looked up at the clock. "Go on. It's dinner time, and I'm willing to bet that you're hungry."

Hermione nodded and ran out.

Loki smiled. He liked being a teacher again.

* * *

Thor found his son on the Quidditch pitch. "Hello, Harry," he said, in his James Potter form. Eventually, he would try and get his son to be accustomed to both forms, but for now, the one he instinctively knew to be his father would have to do.

Harry turned and smiled. "Hey dad," he said, running over for a hug, which he got. Thor revelled in it. He had missed out on so much of Harry's childhood. No more, he vowed. And Harry would get a childhood, he vowed. As soon as Voldemort showed his face, Thor would smite him and drag him to Helheim himself, prophecies be damned.

He still had difficulty looking at Trelawney and was, at best, curt with her. Every time he saw her face, under those stupid glasses, that ridiculous hairdo, that vacant expression that made her look more like a stunned cow than the mysterious sage she thought herself to be and that moronic bevy of clothes, he got the urge to grab her and shake her, and demand why the she had made, as her only genuine prophecy, the one prophecy that had ruined his life, that had killed his wife and hurt his son. Couldn't she have made it where Snape wasn't around to hear it? And that was another person on the 'to-restrain-from-smiting' list. He hated Snape. Before, he had disliked him. But now… it was his fault Lily was dead. So he hated him more than he had hated anything in his entire life, a bitter flame that licked at his heart like a cancer.

Sometimes, he wanted to look up at the sky and scream – and had, once. He'd flown to the top of a mountain in the Grampians and screamed, causing several minor avalanches and scaring some birds to death. He just wanted to ask 'Why?' Why him, why his family, why did the people he loved have to bend over and take it from Fate and Destiny? It wasn't fair! And as he had those thoughts as easily as he breathed, he lived in the bitter knowledge that somewhere, the Norns were laughing.

But for every bitterness, every hurt, every wound, there is a balm. Harry was that balm. Every time he saw his son, he felt a wave of overwhelming love and pride. That was his boy. And when he smiled, he looked so painfully like Lily, green eyes practically glowing with happiness, like emerald lamps, shining in the darkness. He just wanted to hug him, hold him and protect him from the cares of the world. Harry was his son, flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood and bone of his bone. He was his and he do anything to protect him.

And now, his wonderful boy was in his arms.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine," Harry said, but his tone betrayed a bit of pain.

"What is it?"

"Nothing… well, you know when I fell off my broom?"

Thor fixed him with a wry look. "Harry, no parent is going to forget their only child's near death experiences, as much as they might want to," he said dryly. "I was terrified for your sake. It is safe to say I remember."

Harry chuckled slightly, and unconsciously leaned into his father's body. "Yeah, I suppose so. But, my broom was smashed by the Whomping Willow. It's beyond repair."

"Then we'll get you a new one," Thor said. "For Christmas, if that's what you want."

Harry looked startled, then smiled. "Yeah, it is." He paused, and shifted his feet awkwardly for a moment or two.

"What is it?" Thor asked, amused.

"… Can I have a Firebolt?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I mean, if it isn't too much to ask," he began anxiously.

"Harry," Thor said, chuckling softly. "Nothing is too much to ask." He inwardly resolved to ask Loki to help him not just buy a Firebolt, but to improve the charms and make it even better. And to get one for Ron – though he would have to check with Molly about that one.

Speaking of Molly, she'd been trying to get him to take the money back, but he'd turned a deaf ear. That was, until he'd got tired of it and pointed out that one, the will was written in war time and was long overdue its execution (a total lie, since Loki and the Gringotts scribes had forged it only a few days ago), two, it was doing nothing in his vault, three, she, Arthur and the children deserved the best, four, he'd had much longer to practice being stubborn and he really wasn't backing down, and five, Loki had an in with the Queen, and accepting the cash would quickly become a Royal Command if necessary. Molly had given in at that point.

"Also, I owe you twelve years of birthday presents, Christmas presents, and random parental spoiling," he added as an afterthought. He suddenly had an idea and drew his hammer. "Do you want to fly?"

"What?" Harry asked, then looked at the hammer. His eyes promptly widened. "Really?" he breathed.

"Yes," Thor said, gratified that his son didn't even bother to ask if it was safe. Not only did that show trust, it showed inherited recklessness. Of course, Lily would have worried and probably screamed at him for endangering their child in such a fashion. "Sorry Lils," he murmured to himself. "But the boy's going to fly some time."

"Dad?"

"Nothing, Harry. Your dad's just rambling to himself," Thor said, and pulled Harry close with his left hand, spinning the hammer with his right. "Hold on tight," he said, grinning. Harry matched the grin, and let out a wild whoop as they took off.

They shot straight upwards at speeds no wizarding broom had ever achieved, the magic of Mjolnir preventing wind shear from affecting either himself or Harry, then turned sharply to race over the countryside. Hogsmeade whipped past, looking like a child's toy beneath them. Fields blurred into a giant patchwork quilt, patches of forest like bits of stuffing marring the pattern, yet also improving it, as if put there on purpose by a particularly adept and ambitious seamstress.

Roads crisscrossed the country side like solid grey rivers, cars darting up and down them in a multi-coloured horde, flashing like tropical fish as they moved up and down their pre-ordained paths. They turned again, and soon they were racing over the sea. Thor took them low, so that they could have reached out and touched the waves. Thankfully Harry was holding on too tight and had too much sense to do so, though even if he hadn't been holding on, Thor's left arm held him to his body as tightly as a vice.

They shot past a trawler, and Thor smiled. He shared a look with his son, who was clearly laughing and revelling in this flight. "This is brilliant!" he yelled over the rushing winds, and Thor laughed.

"I am glad you think so," he said, and slowly, their flight began to curve upwards, turning unerringly back towards Hogwarts, accelerating slowly until they were cruising at just below the speed of sound, passing over the great patchwork quilt with its grey rivers and multi-coloured fish. Finally, they landed again, back on the Quidditch pitch.

"Did you enjoy that?" Thor asked, looking at his son, whose hair was as messy and windswept as his had ever been – and currently was.

Harry's grin threatened to split his face in two. "That was _incredible_," he breathed. "Can we do it again?"

"Not today," Thor said. "Maybe when we're in New York. Knowing Tony, he might insist he take you for a flight."

Harry's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh, could I?" he asked hopefully.

"No. Far too unsafe," Thor said firmly. "I have twelve years of over protective parenting to catch up on as well," he said, smirking at his son's slight pout, the same one Lily had had when she'd been thwarted when she'd badly wanted to do something. He'd seen it most often when Sirius interrupted their make outs for some prank or other, usually after her immediate irritated expression had faded. He ruffled his son's hair. "Come on in, Harry. Your uncle is plotting a prank with the twins, and I don't know about you, but I want in."

"Do you even have to ask?" Harry said playfully.

Thor laughed and gently clapped his shoulder. "That's my boy!" He looked down at Harry, all coltish limbs, windswept hair, sparkling green eyes, cheeks reddened with wind and excitement and dazzling smiles, and thought, _oh Lily, I hope you're watching. Because don't look now, but our son is the most beautiful, brave and brilliant thing in all the Nine Realms_.

And ever after, he would swear that it wasn't just the early Winter wind brushing up crackling leaves, or a light breeze caressing his ear, but he could have sworn he heard a female voice whisper, _I am. And I already knew, you great lummox. _

He burst into hearty laughter.

"Dad?"

He smiled. "Nothing, Harry. Nothing." He looked down at Harry. "I love you, you know that? I love you, Harry, my son."

Harry's smile was dazzling and he laughed, a carefree, happy laugh. "I do now," he said, voice teasing. Then he hugged his father tightly. "I really do. I love you too, dad."

On hearing those five words, Thor's heart melted into a puddle of sappy goo. Tears in his eyes, he hugged his son and said nothing. For a few long moments, they just held each other on the grassy lawn and enjoyed being with someone who loved them unconditionally.

Time passed. The week ended, and Saturday dawned, bright and misty, with the crackling of frost on the grass and the lake beginning to freeze over. It was nearing December and the first snows. Thor could feel them on the wind, and he stood on the battlements, savouring the coolness of the dawn.

"The James Potter I knew could not have been woken at this time for anything short of, oh, the chance to see Lily less than fully dressed," Remus greeted him.

"She did look adorable in her lime green pyjamas," Thor said equably, shifting to his James Potter form.

"You're just saying that because the top was a tight tank top and she didn't wear a bra at night," Remus said, then chuckled. "Not until Sirius dumped a bucket of cold water over her head."

"Yeah, and then she started wearing bras to bed and Sirius started complaining that he could feel when the wind changed direction with his left elbow," Thor said, grinning as he remembered Sirius' helter skelter attempts to escape the wrath of hurricane Lily in full rage mood, dripping with cold water, shrieking imprecations and hurling curses.

He noticed Remus was watching him carefully. "You're coming to terms with Lily's passing very well," he said carefully. The 'too well' went unspoken.

"I'm not forgetting her, if that's what you're worrying about," Thor said. "It is simply that my memories as James are slipping into the rightful place in my memory bank, as it were, losing the bright, harsh immediacy they had when they were restored. The time they belong to was twelve years ago. I have twelve years of experience and memory to buttress against the pain." He sighed. "It does still hurt, Moony. I can't, won't, deny that. Ever. Every morning since I got my memories back, I roll over, expecting to see Lily, or here her mumble 'geroff' or 'your turn to deal with the baby', or something like that. That said, I'm managing. I'm focusing on the good times, not the bad." He looked off into the distance. "Because if I don't, I'll go mad."

Remus gently took his friend's hand and squeezed briefly, before releasing it.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I just thought…" he said, hunting for the words.

"That everything that was James was being overwhelmed?" Thor asked.

Remus paused, then nodded.

"I can understand why you'd think that, Moony, but it isn't. It's being assimilated. When I dwell on my memories as James, I sound more like I did then. When I'm dealing more with my Asgardian side, I sound more like I did before," Thor explained. "As far as I and Loki can tell, it is settling into a blend of the two."

Remus nodded. "I see," he said. "James?"

"Yes?"

"Harry is rather badly affected by Dementors, Prongs. And we both know why. He saw Lily murdered in front of him, and that's his only memory of her," Remus said quietly. Thor stiffened. "I would like to teach him the Patronus charm, and maybe you, I and a few others could pool our best memories of Lily. Otherwise all Harry will ever see of her is photographs and her last moments."

Thor nodded. "That is an excellent idea, Moony. Both are excellent ideas," he added.

There was a sudden roar overheard, and Remus jumped slightly. Thor smiled. "The Avengers Quinjet," he said by way of explanation. "We couldn't get a cross continental portkey on such short notice, I'm not sure if Loki is up for teleporting himself, Harry and I over to New York, the Dark Paths are dangerous even for full grown men and women to traverse, let alone a curious child and I want Harry to see Asgard when he has a chance to appreciate it." He flashed Remus a grin as the jet came in to land. "Also, I've persuaded the pilot to teach Harry a little bit of how to fly it." He paused. "I _think _he removed the ammunition for the minigun…"

"Minigun?"

"Big, spinning gun with at least six barrels and it fires thousands of large bullets a minute," Thor said. "I'd say that maybe ten seconds sustained fire could turn a full grown giant into mince."

"What happens if it isn't disarmed?"

Thor shrugged. "Should be interesting to find out, don't you think?"

**We're going to see the Avengers next chapter, I promise. And see lots of them. Not just them, but Jane, maybe Darcy and Selvig too.**

**Well, funnily enough, Jean ended up coming top of that poll. Dark Horse contender and all that. I am intrigued by the results. Some close to the mark… some less close.**

**Requested Avengers Profile:**

**Thor Odinson: Norse God of Thunder and Lightning (not Reason and Understanding). Crown Prince of Asgard. Likes his hammer. Technologically inept. Very powerful. Formerly James Potter.**

**Loki Odinson: Norse God of Magic and Mischief. Reformed super villain. Prince of Asgard. Technologically adept. Born a Frost Giant. A little touchy on this subject.**

**Steve Rogers: Captain America. American super soldier. Really far too nice for his own good. Spent 70 years as a Capsicle. Likes his (indestructible) shield. Fish Out of Temporal Water.**

**Tony Stark: Iron Man. Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist. Built a mini arc reactor. In a cave. With a box of scraps. Technologically awesome. Deadpan Snarker Supreme.**

**Natasha Romanov: Black Widow. Russian assassin. Works for SHIELD. Has a softer side, deep down. Incredibly beautiful. Terrifies anything with a brain. **

**Clint Barton: Hawkeye. Sniper. Inhuman aiming skills. Works for SHIELD. Not quite as scary as Black Widow, but still terrifying.**

**Pepper Potts: the woman who runs Tony's life, and by extension, those of the rest ****of the Avengers. She somehow finds time to run a company as well. Is pure, distilled awesome.**

**Bruce Banner: Small. Sweet. Apparently harmless. Brilliant scientist. Has a very special party trick.**

**Nick Fury: Director of SHIELD. Has one eye. His sheer Badassery more than compensates. Owner of a very nice long coat.**


	7. Chapter 7: First Impressions

**Guest: The Sif as Lily idea is very intriguing, and fits with Sif's long time attraction to Thor, but it isn't happening. I could probably have made it fit if this fic was in it's early stages, but it won't work now. As it is, I have other plans for Lily and Sif. **

**And another chapter. If this one feels a little rushed, I'm sorry, but my finals are just over the horizon and I have other things to worry about. I just wanted to get this chapter out as you may also have to wait a while for the next chapter. A lot of these early chapters are basically stitching disparate scenes together. That said, fic writing is my answer to a stress ball, and the fic is at 230,000 words and rising, and the whole series collected is somewhere north of 400,000 words. Steve and Bruce won't get much of a spotlight this chapter, but they will next. **

**I promise there will be more in depth character response to Harry when I have the time to write it.**

**I own nothing you recognise. The comparison to a Labrador was nicked from Thor's TV Tropes character page.**

**Also, every review makes me smile and write a little more.**

As it turned out, the Mini gun was armed and chock full of ammo, but only the pilot could access it.

Harry looked around the Quinjet. And was favourably impressed. "Whoa," he breathed. "This thing is awesome."

"Glad you like it," the pilot said, standing up. "You're Thor's kid, right? Harry?"

Harry nodded.

The pilot stuck out a hand. "I'm Clint Barton. People call me Hawkeye."

Harry's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "H-hawkeye?"

Clint smirked. "Finally I understand why Stark likes fame," he said. "That's me, kid."

Harry dazedly shook his head. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Please, call me Clint. Everyone does, except Tony."

"What does he call you?"

"Depends on his mood," Clint said. "Barton, Agent Barton, Robin Hood, Legolas, Feathers, Feather brains, Bird Boy…" He shrugged. "Stark does nicknames like everyone else does breathing." He chuckled. "He calls your dad Point Break and your uncle Reindeer Games."

Harry looked puzzled.

"He was referring to a couple of films," Clint said, and caught Thor's grateful and approving look. The big guy had asked him to be nice to the kid. Clint liked Thor, and honestly, it wasn't a hardship. The kid seemed friendly enough – a little star struck, which was both gratifying and hardly unexpected. Since he'd become an Avenger, every kid knew his codename.

"Do you fly this jet?"

"Yup," Clint said. Another thing Thor had asked him to do was to use his experience of a less than stellar childhood to get the kid to open up about his past, rather than repress, like Loki and Tony. And the best way to do that was in conversation, by making friends with him. "I do, and I will be your pilot today."

"Cool," Harry said. "How fast does it go?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Tony keeps fiddling with it, and it's powered by one of his arc reactors. Top speed so far is three times the speed of sound," Clint said.

Harry's jaw dropped.

"Wow," he breathed. "Even the Firebolt only does three hundred."

"Firebolt?"

"My broomstick."

"You have a flying broomstick?" Clint asked, incredulous. He'd run across them in the past once or twice, but he reacted out of surprise both out of habit and genuine surprise that a teenage orphan would have the Wizarding World's answer to a Ferrari.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's shrunken, in my bag."

"They're enchanted to fly, Clint, to cushion the seat and to compensate for wind shear. They're used for sports, racing and long distance travel," Thor called over. "And my brother has rather enhanced this one. It's a late birthday present."

Clint nodded his understanding. "How's it handle?" he asked. "I've never flown a broom, but I've flown a few other things in my time. I'd like to compare." He paused. "When I can turn on the autopilot, anyway. I can even teach you to fly, if you want."

Harry's eyes shone. "Really?" he said, eyes wide.

Clint grinned. "Sure, once we're well out over the Atlantic." He sat down. "Take a seat, and I'll show you how this thing flies. First, we make the pre-flight checks…"

Thor smiled. His son was hanging off Clint's every word, sharp green eyes taking in everything the archer did, occasionally asking questions that Clint happily answered.

"He's clever," Loki said. Thor glanced at his brother. "He looks, he listens, and he absorbs information. While he isn't quite the intellect that Hermione is, nor the same sort of information sponge, he does react well and quickly when called upon to do so." He laid a hand on Thor's shoulder. "He will pass this test, brother. And it is a necessary test to put him through."

"I don't like it," Thor said bluntly.

"If we are to keep him safe, we need to know what he can do," Loki said. "I know you just want the best for him, but if we are to give him even a façade of normality, we must know his abilities."

Thor nodded reluctantly. "I am surprised that you agreed with Clint on such an early test."

Loki looked grim. "While seeing the future is not in my gift, I have a feeling," he said. "This is not the road to Ragnarok, I know that, but I have the most unsettling feeling that things are stirring. Old, powerful things. Harry needs to be ready."

"Brother?"

"Harry's very existence shakes up the cosmic order. Asgard has a strong line of succession now, just as it starts intervening in the Middle Realm once more. The game is changing with the world, and Midgard is at the heart of those changes," Loki said. "Harry is, like it or not, a boy who will define the course of the future for all the Nine Realms. And the power players in the shadows, good and evil alike, will be paying attention." He shook his head. "I hope I am wrong, but I feel that soon, darkness will threaten us all."

Thor looked at him carefully. Once he would have laughed off Loki's warning. But now, he too felt a strange sense of foreboding. "I will protect him," Thor vowed. "Come what may."

"And so will I," Loki said firmly as the jet took off, and Harry fixed his eyes on the window. "I just hope that we are able to."

* * *

As Clint stepped away to let Harry fly the jet solo, he was impressed. The kid had a natural grasp, so it seemed, of anything flying. He'd given him the basics of flying the plane, and was now watching as the kid flew all by himself. Loki looked a little nervous, which wasn't surprising, considering what Clint had cooked up next, with Thor's – dubious, hard gained and given with many, _many_ caveats – blessing.

He switched on a simulator, which caused the jet to rock, and Clint to fall and play the helpless bystander. The best way to stay in role is to actually feel like your character would. In this case, in pain. This pain was provided by a shoulder hitting a bulkhead and the bulkhead winning.

"Kid! We're under fire," Clint cried, as the jet simulated the feelings of taking fire. Loki and Thor had plausibly worried, unnerved expressions on their faces, Loki's mostly simulated, Thor's not remotely. Clint reckoned that the kid would freeze. There was no crime in that. Very few people were really cut out for combat and one of the main reasons Thor had agreed was a shared knowledge that only a very small number of people would react well under fire without training, and this was vital knowledge where Harry was concerned.

His jaw almost dropped as he watched Harry's expression turn into one of fierce concentration as he sent the Quinjet into a fearsomely fast descending barrel roll, sending them spinning towards the sea, before regaining control and slamming the throttle forward to three quarters of top speed as they scudded over the sea. Harry had just done several things that serious pilots would blanch at doing, and had done them without even breaking a sweat. What he'd heard from his contacts was right. The kid definitely got a lot better and a lot more dangerous under pressure. And he could fly, oh how he could fly. If he hadn't been who he was, Clint would have recommended him to SHIELD as a potential future agent.

Then the jet began to jink across the sea in a classic evasion pattern, purposefully hard to predict, but controlled enough that the jet actually stayed in control. Harry was managing to deal with a phantom pursuer well enough, which triggered the next part of the simulation. Two blinking dots appeared on the radar.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"Missiles," Clint said, staggering to his feet.

"WHAT?"

"Heat seekers. They're locked on."

Harry stopped for a moment, and he looked at Clint with fear on his face. Had he frozen? Better trained, older, more skilled men and women had done the same under lesser circumstances and Harry had done fantastically so far, far exceeding Clint's fairly jaundiced expectations.

"All right," Harry said, tone determined. "Let's go." He pulled up sharply, directing all power to the VTOL propellers to launch them practically straight upwards, then punched the power all the way into the primary thrusters, sending them rocketing upwards at Mach 2.5 and climbing. "CLINT!" he called over the noise as the 'missiles' dropped back, then closed. "I'M GOING TO TRY SOMETHING! CAN WE, YOU KNOW, DISTRACT THEM WITH ANYTHING?!"

"FLARES!" Clint called, pointing them out.

Harry nodded. "CAN YOU TAKE OVER?!"

"NOT IN TIME," Clint said, and it was true. In real life, a pilot changeover would take too long. "IT'S YOUR SHOW, KID!"

Harry looked grim and nodded. The altimeter continued to spiral upwards, and the missiles closed. Harry's eyes were fixed on the 'missiles' progress, finger hovering over the flares. Suddenly, he cut all power, and fired off the flares. As the plane dropped away, Harry carefully directing it into a dive, wrestling with the controls as the jet threatened to spiral out of control – if Clint hadn't know that Loki could arrest their descent with a word, he'd have been genuinely frightened. As it was, his potential fears went unrealised, as, with a cry of effort, Harry pulled out of the dive, thumping the power up to full, pulling out one hundred feet above sea level, before lowering the speed.

"Are they gone?" he asked.

"They were never there, kid," Clint said, grinning, flicking on the autopilot, letting it take them up to cruising height and speed.

"What?"

"That was a simulation, one we pull randomly on SHIELD agents at least fifteen to twenty years older than you. Well, they have to run to the pilot's chair as well and disengage the auto, but that's another matter," Clint said. "I wanted to know if you could fly as well as they say." He reached over and ruffled Harry's hair and chuckled. "And kid, you more than live up to the hype. You're a natural and it shows. Thor! Your kid's a natural."

"It was all… all a game?"

"No. I genuinely wanted to know how good you are. Thing is, Thor, Loki and Bruce can't fly one of these things for sh – uh, neither love nor money. Steve tends to have an unsurprising aversion to flying planes considering what happened last time he flew one. The day I trust Tony with flying one of these things is the day I sign up for multiple heart attacks, because Tony is a demon when he's behind the wheel of anything. If me and Natasha aren't able to fly one of these, it may come down to you one day. That, and I wanted to know how you perform under pressure. Way your dad tells it, you've got bad people after you, and the remains of a dangerous organisation that's still active. Not only that, but your dad has enemies, your uncle has enemies, and the Avengers all have enemies who would be more than happy to hurt you and use you," Clint explained. "We – the Avengers, will help protect you and teach you. But to do that, we need to know what you can do." He winked. "Besides. You gotta admit, it was fun."

Harry paused, then nodded. "Yeah, it was." He looked thoughtful. "It was a lot like Quidditch, really."

"That's… the game with seven a side, four balls and broomsticks, right?" Clint said. He was more familiar with Quodpot – which had convinced him that all wizards were insane adrenaline junkies - having had to infiltrate a couple of wizarding communities in the states on an assassination, but he'd gained a very passing familiarity with the more European sport.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. The missiles kind of reminded me of bludgers." He shrugged. "That's how I knew how to dodge them. Classic Seeker tactics."

"What does that say about me?" he asked, a little worried.

"You're an adrenaline junkie, like the rest of the Avengers, minus Bruce," Clint said casually. "It's a good thing, if you can control it. Tony generally doesn't."

"I am not 'an adrenaline junkie'," Loki said, with some asperity. "Most of my heroic exploits, past and present, have had the sole aim of keeping my brother and his friends, mortal or otherwise, out of trouble and trying to minimise the destruction."

Clint scoffed. "Yeah, and the leader of an alien invasion force fights on the frontlines because he has to."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I had my reasons."

"Don't listen to him, he loves it really," Clint stage whispered to Harry, who stifled a giggle.

Loki gave him a mock sneer. Clint stuck his tongue out, a gesture calculated to make Harry laugh. Like most of Clint's calculated gestures, it worked like a charm.

The rest of the flight was spent in happy bickering between the three Avengers, while Harry watched and laughed. Life was good.

* * *

The Avengers looked at Harry. Harry looked at the Avengers. Tony broke the silence.

"Wow," Tony said, looking at Harry. "Thor, your sprog is short."

"So are you. I'm thirteen. I'm still growing. What's your excuse, Mister Stark?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

Clint, Thor and Loki cracked up laughing as Tony gaped.

"Did he just sass me?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Yes Tony, he did," Bruce said, smiling slightly.

"He's got you there, Stark," Natasha said, smirking and walking past in a pair of tight jeans on her way to the kitchen. Harry's eyes, as those of any straight male teenager would, settled on her bum. "Keep staring and you'll burn a hole in them, kid," she said casually without turning around. Harry blushed furiously and looked away. But not before stealing another glance.

"Ah," Thor said proudly. "Like father, like son."

"You can't blame the kid, Natasha, I mean, it's a great ass," Tony said.

Pepper raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? Academic appreciation only," Tony said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Is her ass twelve percent better than mine?" Pepper asked archly. "Or could an argument be made for fifteen?"

"No, no, no, uh… yours is twelve times _better_ than hers," Tony said, backpedalling desperately as he sensed a potential cause for strife up ahead.

"You are so whipped it is unbelievable," Clint said.

"I am not!" Tony protested.

"Yes you are, honey," Pepper said.

"Yes I am."

"Quiet now."

"Yes dear."

"What does whipped mean?" Harry asked his father. "Are there actual whips involved?"

Thor shrugged. "It depends. I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. Despite my regained memories, I'm still not entirely up on the 21st century."

"No," Loki said. "It means that he does what she says without hesitation." He glanced at Thor. "You were whipped by Lily half the time." Thor shrugged.

"So, Tony's Pepper's bitch then?" Harry asked, tone innocently curious.

"Exactly," Thor and Loki drawled in unison.

Tony pouted. "You three should never be allowed to work together," he mumbled. "You gang up on poor defenceless billionaire industrialist genii."

"Don't worry honey," Pepper said, ruffling his hair and kissing his cheek. "I'll protect you from the mean Asgardians."

Tony started purring.

"His animagus form is definitely some kind of cat," Harry said, then grinned wickedly. It was a very Loki grin, though the rest of the Avengers had seen it on Thor's James Potter face once or twice. It never promised anything good. "Maybe we should get him neutered," he suggested brightly. "Stun him, put a couple of numbing charms on his groin and it'll be easy."

"I wouldn't," Tony said thoughtlessly. "If you neuter me, Pepper will very quickly get the female version of blue balls and buy out most of the vibrators in New York."

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight, honey," Pepper said, going bright red.

"What?" Tony asked, then looked at the wickedly grinning Harry. "Son of a… you planned that didn't you?"

"Me?" Harry asked, shifting to seraphically innocent. "Would I do such a thing?"

"You would," Tony said accusingly.

"We know," Thor said.

"And we're so proud," Loki said, grinning.

"How did you do it?" Clint asked curiously.

"Loki gave me a few pointers," Harry said cheerfully. It had been a peripheral part of their lessons and a focal part of several chats. "Whatever you answered, it was going to turn out in my favour."

"Kid's got talent," Natasha said. "Coke, water, or juice?"

Tony opened his mouth. "Tony," Pepper said warningly. "No."

"You didn't even know what I was about to say!" Tony complained.

"I know you," Pepper said. "So I don't need to know the exact details."

Tony did not dispute this point.

"Um, coke please?" Harry asked.

"Hey guys," Darcy said, striding in. "Where's Mini-Thor? I was told to look for a 'cute, dark haired midget with green eyes'."

"Mini-Thor," Harry said. "Got to admit, that's a new one."

"Ah! Mini-Thor!"

"Darcy, this is… mini-Thor, known to the rest of the world as Harry," Loki said dryly. "Harry, this is Darcy, friend to the Avengers, former lab assistant to your father's girlfriend and current freelance journalist."

"Hi," Harry said, slowly, wondering if Darcy was dangerous crazy or harmless crazy.

"Don't worry," Thor said, catching his expression. "She doesn't bite."

Darcy smirked. "That's what you think, hammer time," she drawled.

"What do you investigate?" Harry asked, leaving the puzzling subject behind.

"I investigate the weird shit, and let me tell you that wand waving wizards register at a seven point three on my weird shit-o-meter," Darcy said casually. "Though Thor being your dad jacks it up to twenty five at least."

"What's it out of?"

"Ten."

"So… how do I rate at twenty five?"

"By being a special little snowflake, of course," Darcy said cheerfully, ruffling his hair. She critically looked him up and down and nodded. "Feed him the right stuff and he'll be real pretty. It helps that you're British," she opined. "Yo, Thor, what did you look like as a, you know, human? I want to see how much of a hottie your son's gonna be." Harry stared at her in total puzzlement and mouthed 'what?' at Tony, who was cracking up.

Thor shifted. Darcy wolf whistled. "_Damn_, eight point five at _least_. Kid definitely has potential," she said. She shook her head. "Jane's _so_ lucky: two hotties for the price of one." She sat down the end of the sofa. "So, it's Harry, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Any dirt on your dad?"

"No," Harry said, but smirked as she pouted. "However, I do know all his old teachers, and one of my teachers is one of his oldest friends from his mortal life, so I could probably hook you up. For a price of course."

Darcy grinned. "Kid, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"We're all doomed," Thor groaned.

"No, Thor. _You _are doomed," Loki said, smirking. "We get to watch."

Thor sulked.

"Loki's right, Point Break," Tony said. "Your pain is our amusement."

"Oh, Thor," Darcy said. "Before Harry and I, you know, plot your downfall, Jane's coming back from that science conference thing she was at with Erik."

Thor paled slightly. "Thank you Darcy," he said. "I'll start planning my funeral, shall I?"

"It can't be that bad," Steve said.

"Ah, Cap, ever the optimist," Tony said, tone condescending. "It could be very easily that bad."

"All we can do is wait," Bruce said. "And don't scare Thor."

"You make me sound like an overgrown child," Thor grumbled.

Loki and Tony glanced at each other.

"Too easy?" Tony asked.

"Too easy."

Thor moved to flip them both off, remembered his son's presence, paused... then settled for sticking his tongue out at them.

* * *

Jane and Harry faced each other. The Avengers, having moved and, in Bruce's case, whisked Selvig off to a lab, to give the two some illusion privacy, were all eavesdropping. Some were doing so discreetly, some less so. Even Steve was listening with half an ear.

"So," Harry said. "You're dad's girlfriend." His tone was purposefully neutral.

"And you're Thor's son," she replied levelly.

They eyed each other. "So," Harry said. "What's your story? How did you meet dad?"

Jane chuckled. "Well, funnily enough, the first time I met him, I hit him with my truck when I was storm chasing. Then he scared Darcy who tased him and we dropped him off at the hospital. Even weirder, I didn't run into him once, it happened twice. Literally, the second time, I was out looking for him because we'd figured out that he was the key to the Einstein-Rosen bridge, the interdimensional portal that we'd been tracking, and I thought he'd be long gone." She shook her head.

"And then you hit him again," Harry said. "Was he okay?"

"His ego took a critical hit," Jane said wryly. "But the rest of him was fine." She smiled. "He's really sweet you know? Like, if you can imagine a golden Labrador in the shape of a thunder god, you've more or less got him down." Her smiled faded slightly. "Or at least that's what I thought."

"Far as I can see, he's still like that," Harry said, tone reassuring. "Professor Lupin, one of dad's old friends, says that 'after his ego got deflated, he could be incredibly sweet'. He also said that there wasn't much real difference between Thor and James to start with." He sat back. "Basically, I think that when Odin sent dad down as a mortal the second time, he wanted him to become like he had been when he was my dad. So, all that happened is he got a little more mature."

Jane nodded and absently tucked some hair behind her ear. "Yeah," she said slowly. "I can see that." She favoured him with a smile, which he returned. "So, what's your story?" She gently brushed aside his fringe. "Starting with that scar?" she said, concerned. "God, does it hurt?"

"Not usually," Harry said, and began to explain.

* * *

Tony was stifling laughter. Jane and Harry had been talking for the last twenty minutes, both quiet and civil, with some grinning by both sides. Nothing seemed amiss, but he'd never had he seen Thor look so worried. The big guy was running a hand through his – currently, he was unconsciously shifting ever two minutes or so - dark, messy hair, and casting glances over at Jane and Harry. The two were talking quietly. Then they glanced at Thor and started giggling.

"I don't think you have to worry about them not getting on, big guy," Tony observed.

Thor sagged in relief.

"Them ganging up on you might be a problem, though," he continued.

Thor looked worried again.

After another few minutes, the two nodded, shook hands and parted, Harry going to talk to Darcy while Jane was walking over to talk to Thor.

"Your son is a total sweetie," Jane said, sitting down beside him and smiling.

Thor closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Odin. You two got on well?"

"I'm still getting used to the idea of you having a kid," she admitted. "And he's clearly still getting used to the idea of having a dad, and of that dad being with a woman who isn't his mother, so there's a little reservation there. But I like him. And I think he likes me."

"Tony said you're going to gang up on me," Thor said, voice laden with suspicion.

"I never thought of that," Jane said. She smiled winningly. "Sounds like a great idea, though." Thor looked horrified.

"I'm teasing," she said, gently poking his stomach and snuggling up to him. He smiled and slipped an arm around her."Oh, in all seriousness… I'm not sure if I'm really ready to be a mom. Especially not to a teenager." She shuddered. "I can still remember being one all too well."

"I don't expect you to be. All I ask is you be friendly to one another," Thor said reassuringly. "Harry has at least one maternal figure that I know of, and Pepper has taken him right under her wing." His eyes twinkled. "I think she's getting broody, Tony."

Tony's expression of pure horror was priceless, and Jane giggled.

Pepper chose that moment to walk in, and smiled at Harry, who was roaring with laughter at something Darcy had said. "He's a sweet kid," she said. "You two get on okay?" she asked Jane.

"Yeah," Jane said. "There's a few reservations, but…"

"They'll go with time," Pepper said reassuringly. "You're both adjusting." She glanced over at Harry, and her hand unconsciously slipped to her stomach.

Tony stared at the hand, eyes suddenly wide. "Um, Pep, are you hungry or something?" he said slowly. Thor and Jane shared a look and desperately suppressed giggles.

"Hmm? Oh, no, but thanks for asking."

"What's up?"

"Just thinking," Pepper said, kissing his cheek. "About, you know, stuff."

This vague reply did nothing to stop Tony's worries. "Pepper," he said slowly. "Do you want a baby?"

She stared at him. "Where did you get that idea?"

Tony wordlessly pointed at Thor, who looked studiously innocent. "You reminded me a little of Lily when we were first married," he said, subtly pulling Jane closer and placing a kiss on her head as he did. Pepper gave him an approving look. He'd handled that nicely.

"Huh," she said. "Oh, and the return to custody papers were just formalised." She frowned slightly at Thor. It wasn't an angry frown. "What got me, though, was who you designated to be Harry's guardians on Earth is something happened to you."

Thor gave her an innocent look. "Oh?"

"Who?" Tony asked, curious.

"Us," Pepper said. "Thor, I'm honoured, really, I am. Tony is too." The look she gave him said that he would be honoured or he would be sleeping on the floor. Tony nodded.

"Yeah, I'm uh, honoured," Tony said.

"But, why us?"

"Why not you? Steve is kind, true, but he is still hurting from his losses, and adjusting to this time," Thor said. "Bruce is also very kind, and I do not fear that the Hulk will hurt Harry. What I do fear is that Bruce has enemies. Clint and Natasha I considered, but I think Natasha may yet murder me if I imply that she and Clint are a couple and their life is… unsettled. Remus, my friend, would not likely be allowed to keep Harry, because of his… condition."

"Condition?"

"Werewolf. He can control it through a potion, and isolate himself beforehand, but they are regarded and derided, wrongly, as dark creatures."

"You're shitting me," Tony said, incredulous. "A real life werewolf?"

"No Tony, you can't ask for a blood sample," Pepper said.

Tony pouted. "Fine. Does Reindeer games have any books on them?"

"That I can guarantee. The wolf people of Asgard are loyal vassals to my father. Their Prince, Hrimhari, is a personal friend. Therefore we know a lot about them. Many of the principles regarding the biology of the two transfer, I think, but there are differences," Thor said. "The wolf people are natural born. Werewolves are created." He sighed. "It has caused him much pain, but he manages. As for my other friend, Sirius… I have no idea what state he will be in when we find him. Azkaban is a truly foul place to be sent, especially for an innocent man."

He smiled at Pepper. "You two are good, kind, clever people, who I trust with my life and admire greatly, with the means to look after Harry and help him when his powers come through – and make no mistake, they will." His eyes twinkled. "Also, I think you would make good parents."

"Thanks," Pepper said. "Really, Thor I'm honoured." She glanced at Tony. "Oh, and Tony, on the baby thing?" She leaned in and whispered in his ear. Tony blinked. "Think about it," she said, walking away.

"What did she say?" Jane asked.

"'Give it a couple of years. After that, whenever you're ready'," he said, stunned.

"Looks like the ball's in your court," Jane said.

"I'd imagine that both balls are," Thor said, grinning. Jane smacked his arm.

"Thor!"

"What? He can have more than one response."

"You are impossible," Jane said ruefully.

"Bruce has informed me that I violate the conservation of mass," Thor said.

"What?"

"I can shapeshift into a stag at will."

"You're kidding me," Jane said, awed. "You can?"

"Shapeshifting is more my brother's department, but yes," Thor said. "I can."

"That's incredible," Jane said. "Tell me more."

Thor smiled at her. That was what he loved about her, her boundless curiosity, her willingness to accept the previously thought impossible, and her thirst for knowledge.

"Come on, big guy, I want to hear too," Tony said, ruining the moment.

"Very well," Thor said. "It all started with four teenage boys about Harry's age, close friends, closer than brothers…"

**Okay. First things first. I've flown a plane - briefly. It was quite a small plane. It is simultaneously cool and terrifying and I can tell you that once in the air, the basics are simple. For directing it. Obviously, it gets a _whole_ lot more complex when you factor in all the other stuff, such as take-off, landing, radio contact with air traffic control. Hence why pilots are very well trained people. But just manoeuvring it? Relatively simple. All Harry had to do was use the wheel and the throttle, which Clint told him about at the start. Harry's a natural and uses a broom, so he knows how to bank left and right, how to pitch the nose up and down and has an instinctive grasp of aerodynamics. **

**If he was asked to prep the plane for take-off and run through all the safety procedures, he'd be screwed. Plus… well, let's just say that when his powers do come through in full, flight will be his best developed one, and the one that reaches full potential fastest. He's got the knack the same way Clint has a knack for hitting anything he throws at, Natasha has knack for mindbending gymnastics, Loki has a knack for words, Thor/James has a knack for charming people, Bruce has a knack for being nice and in control, Tony has a knack for annoying people and pulling amazing ideas right out of his ass and Steve has a knack for inspiring people.**

**Doth that satisfy your collective Avengers cravings? We'll be seeing more of them, don't you worry. Steve didn't really appear, but he'll get a little bit of spotlight next chapter. I was going to do something with him this chapter, but I just love writing Tony. Jane's a little difficult to get a handle on, and I don't know her so well, so tell me if she does something drastically OOC.**

**Oh, and to whet the appetites of comics fans, in a few chapters time, we'll be seeing the first appearance of a young Carol Danvers – not a love interest, by the way. For context, this fic will largely be like Smallville – this is a world just at the beginning of its age of heroes, so we'll be seeing a lot of comics characters, including some you might not expect, as Harry finds his place in the universe. And yes, he will get powers. But not for a bit.**


	8. Chapter 8: Shades of Grey

**Ooh, another long chapter. My longest in, well, ever. Seriously, nearly 5 figures. That's crazy. And it's a more character driven one to boot, which hopefully sheds a little more light on the shadowy side of the cast, most particularly, Loki. How fun. This chapter was largely born out of the fact that writing is literally my stress ball these days and I have upcoming exams. Enjoy, and please review. It makes me smile and write more.**

Lucius Malfoy was not a happy man. Overnight, the power balance in the Wizarding World had shifted dramatically. In favour of the so called Light, at that. In one night, Potter had gone from isolated, with only the old fool, Dumbledore, and a couple of friends to protect him, the next he was in the protective embrace of the Avengers and, most particularly, the two heirs apparent to the throne of the legendary Asgard.

In other words, he might as well be out of reach, and if any of his father's, or worse, his uncle's, powers lay latent within him… well, it would certainly explain why the Dark Lord had attacked the family, doubtless seeking to strike while the mighty Thor was indisposed as a mortal.

And even if one took the Avengers out of the equation, any plans would face a large, scary, one-eyed African American road block. He hadn't seen Fury since the night he'd taken the younger man's eye and the young man had shattered his wand and given him a limp that even the best magical medicine and therapy couldn't dislodge. Lucius was of the opinion, as informed by his old friend, Baron Von Strucker, a rare muggle who had transcended the boundaries that faced the heaving mass of muggle kind, making himself worthy to associate, at least vaguely, with wizards, that Agent Nicholas Fury had not been weakened by age. Only hardened.

And he was not Agent Fury anymore. He was Director Fury, the undisputed master of SHIELD – an organisation Lucius despised, but respected, albeit grudgingly, a power among muggles and wizards alike. Lucius' sources in America, the base of Fury's power, had noted Fury's unseen, unspoken but powerful influence on the Wizarding Community there.

While Lucius deplored the man's desires, to mould a pro-muggle status quo, he could admire, in a wary fashion, the man's efficiency in forming an entire community in his desired image in approximately four years. Yes. Age had definitely hardened.

He was also the teacher of the mysterious and deadly Agent Wisdom, a shadowy figure who had spent the last five years picking off the more influential but anonymous, and usually subhuman, servants of the Dark Lord with methodical efficiency. He didn't move on Death Eaters, however, leading Lucius to suspect that he was merely a muggle, albeit a dangerous one, who had lost his family to a Death Eater attack and leaving him with a healthy fear of the powerful wizards that had composed Voldemort's strike force, as was right. Of course, if he ever overcame that fear…

In short, Fury was dangerous. Extremely so. And he would be keeping a very close eye on both Potter and on Lucius himself. Naturally, Lucius would repay the favour. He half smiled. In a way, he'd missed this, matching wits and skills with the greatest minds and fighters of the age. His eyes narrowed. He would have to tread carefully, to ease back into this. While he fancied himself Fury's superior, the man had been playing the great game for high stakes for the last decade or so, well enough to gain a meteoric ascendance through the ranks of SHIELD, whilst he had grown comfortable in the role of peacetime power broker. One had been sharpening his skills while the other had let them gather dust and grow dull. First, he needed to cultivate a closer relationship with his old allies. Second, he needed to do it quietly. Third, he needed to get gold flowing through the Malfoy vaults. Fourth… he needed to practice his duelling.

He smiled. "First blood to you, Director. Enjoy it while you can," he said softly, rising, crossing to the wall of his study and whispering a password. A small compartment seamlessly opened and he withdrew a book. Snape may have been the Dark Lord's finest spy, but it was Lucius who had been the political mover and shaker. And, of course, the spymaster. It was time to dust off his old skills, he thought with a smile. He may have lost the last game, but this time… this time he was going to sweep the board.

"Doubtless they are preparing for war at this very moment," he murmured, imagining shelves full of contacts, letters being written to old allies and deadly serious preparation by muggle minions, as Loki and Fury presided over all. Yes, the war machine of the light would be working right now…

* * *

It was just after lunch at the Tower, the sky dark and crows calling. It was a day for shadowy deeds and fell thoughts.

"What are you watching?" Tony asked, coming to investigate the sounds from the living room. The two spies were in the gym and he'd left Bruce to play with an experiment.

Thor, Jane, Harry and Loki were all ensconced on a sofa, watching some television show, which they paused. Jane and Harry were sandwiching Thor, while Harry had clearly dragged his uncle into the sprawling pile. It was like watching sleeping puppies.

"It's a British television show called Doctor Who," Harry said, pausing it. "You'd like it."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"The hero is a scientist, who solves problems with his brain and tricks his enemies," Thor said. "Lily liked it as a child. She told me that it was proof that not all problems could or should be solved by brute force."

Tony sat down beside them, undisguised interest on his face. "Tell me everything," he said. They did. Tony watched in silence.

As the end credits rolled, Tony said, "I am so badly making a sonic screwdriver. And a TARDIS." He rubbed his chin. "And patent bigger on the inside technology."

"If you're thinking about the viability of buildings that are larger on the inside, Thor learnt how to do that when he was mortal and fourteen," Loki said with great relish. Tony stared. Thor shrugged.

"It is an easy spell," Thor said nonchalantly.

Tony continued staring. "Why must you people always ruin my dreams?" he moaned, back of hand dramatically laid against his forehead. Jane shook her head in amusement.

"Sometimes dreams don't hold up to reality," she said. "That's why we have science, to test things."

Tony pouted.

"No muggle version currently exists," Loki pointed out. "So you could invent it."

"Oh, yeah, fine," Tony said, shrugging, instantly mollified. "That works." He looked up. "JARVIS? Open two new project files. First, Sonic Technology. Second, Bigger on the inside tech."

"Of course, sir. However, I feel it necessary to remind you that your last foray into sonic technology lead to a sexual harassment lawsuit?"

"Noted. And that was an accident," Tony said. Harry, Loki and Thor all looked deeply sceptical. Jane had raised both eyebrows.

"What? It was! How was I to know that the sound waves resonated at the exact same frequency as the fabric of 68% of the dresses at the 2001 Christmas party?" Tony complained.

"… Because you knew the exact percentage?" Loki said.

"That's beside the point," Tony said dismissively. "Do we have any more episodes?"

Thor silently produced a box set. Tony grinned.

"Awesome."

Unless planning for war includes marathoning the first two seasons of the revived series of Doctor Who, the Avengers were doing nothing of the kind.

* * *

"Yes," Lucius murmured to himself. "Undoubtedly they are hard at work as I speak…"

"Lucius?"

He looked up. His lovely wife, Narcissa, the embodiment of the perfect pureblood woman, with beauty, elegance, intelligence – properly applied, of course – and natural talents in the department of ladylike behaviour. So unlike Bellatrix… yet just as dangerous, if not more so for being subtle. She was his asp, as deadly as she was beautiful, and she was indispensable to him. And he loved her.

It was an odd thing among pureblood couples, with their arranged matches, but he'd fallen in love with her as soon as he'd seen her. And the feeling had been mutual. True, they had only produced one child, but that… that was because Narcissa's pregnancy with Draco had been difficult to put it mildly. Lucius refused to risk his lovely wife again. Besides, they had a fine son. They did not need others, no matter how much they might have liked one or two more. Narcissa had always wanted a little girl to play with.

Still, what was, was.

"Yes, darling?" he asked.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing the way for the Dark Lord's return," Lucius said. As she opened her mouth, he continued. "The signs are true, he is returning. And it coincides with the Potter boy. In his first year, he faces the much diminished spirit of our Master. Second year, that same spirit uses an old artefact to control the basilisk of Salazar Slytherin." He smiled. "And Peter Pettigrew is still at large. His final option for returning as a hero of the light has been cut off with the return of James Potter, so that means his only option is to seek out our Master."

"But did he not betray him to his death?" Narcissa asked, puzzled.

"This is Pettigrew we speak of. He is not that stupid. Now it makes sense. Some latent godly power in the Potter boy, or some protection granted by Loki or the Allfather himself guarded him," Lucius said. The Allfather intervening on Earth, a being of such power that turning god to mortal and mortal to god was merely a matter of a moment's thought… wasn't that a frightening thought.

He drummed his fingers against the table. "That said," he muttered, thinking aloud. "The Allfather doesn't exactly have a history of intervening directly, and planning to fight him is pointless, as none of us have the power to match Odin in battle."

"Do we have the power to fight Loki? Or Thor?" Narcissa asked.

Lucius shook his head. "Not face to face. But we can outmanoeuvre them," he said, standing to pace. "It will be difficult," he admitted. "But everything worth doing is."

"Is it worth doing? Why not make them our friends? Loki should understand our cause better than most. He is famously an outcast among the Norse Pantheon," Narcissa pointed out. "Maybe he is a candidate for recruitment."

Lucius smiled, and thanked the heavens that he was blessed with so clever a wife. "Unfortunately, I do not think that will work. For one, the legends aren't entirely accurate – he isn't a Frost Giant. The bestiaries show that they are rather distinctive. For two, he is even more famous for holding a grudge, and the murder of his sister-in-law, mudblood bitch or otherwise, is good cause for a grudge," he explained. "For three, he and Thor seem to have repaired their relationship, acting as one. And Thor hates everything to do with the Death Eaters." He chuckled grimly. "Severus informed me that he had a rather nasty set of encounters with both. Loki took an immediate dislike to him and seemed to be able to sense the Dark Mark, being willing to kill Severus. Thankfully, that meddling old fool Dumbledore stopped him."

"That is a blessing indeed," Narcissa murmured, thankful that her son hadn't been suddenly deprived of his godfather by way of a pissed off Norse God with a vendetta.

"Quite, proving that Dumbledore has some purpose," Lucius said, sneering slightly. "Anyway, he then faced Thor, who immediately threatened him with obliteration if he so much as looked at the Potter boy the wrong way ever again."

"Poor Severus," Narcissa said. "He'll have to be careful." She looked out the window. "From what I remember of James Potter, he was not a man to make idle threats."

"No," Lucius agreed. He closed his eyes briefly. The crackle of flames echoed in his mind. A phantom pain shot through his leg and he shuddered. Only through iron hard strength of will did he retain his self-control. Some things frighten even Death Eaters. He sucked in a deep breath. "And nor were his friends."

"Lucius," Narcissa said gently. "We have a good life now. You have power, influence, and are respected by all right thinking wizards. Why should we risk that, and Draco's future, on the dreams of a madman who is a bodiless wraith at best."

"Narcissa, the Dark Lord is –"

She fixed him with a hard stare. "I may agree with his views on muggles, husband," she said sharply. "But that man was insane when he was alive. Who knows how bad he will be now?"

Lucius hesitated.

"The odds are against us in a way they weren't last time. Yes, the Ministry is riddled with corruption and overall, sympathetic to the cause. Yes, the Order of the Phoenix is defunct and no longer can call on many of its core members, assuming they would even answer. Yes, Dumbledore is an old man," Narcissa said. "But even an old Dumbledore is a dangerous one. You discount him at your peril – he is the most cunning and ruthless Gryffindor in the last four centuries, if the testimony of my Uncle Phineas Nigellus is worth anything. You know how clever a politician he is."

"I can manage Dumbledore."

"But not Loki! For _Merlin's sake_, Lucius," Narcissa said, revealing the Black passion. Many had assumed the fire that could be found in Bellatrix and their cousin, Sirius, was dormant in the two younger Black sisters. In fact, it was merely better controlled. She grabbed Lucius' shirt and looked into his eyes, imploring him. "You are talking about going against the Arch Trickster, the God of Lies, the Patron of Slytherin House and the man who taught Salazar Slytherin himself!"

Lucius looked at her, and sighed. "I am sorry Narcissa, but if I do not act… you have seen what happened in America! Mudbloods rule over all and they are muggle ridden! All because of Fury, who I am certain will repeat the trick here if he can." He took her shoulders gently. "It is not just my duty as a pureblood to try and stop him, but my duty as a husband and a father to protect your and Draco's futures. It is duty, and duty carries risks."

She sighed softly and nodded. "If you are certain, then, my husband, I shall support you. As I always have. But for Merlin's sake, be careful!"

He kissed her. "I always am," he said tenderly.

Whatever they said about the Malfoy's, no one had ever accused them of not loving each other. Even the wicked have people they care for.

* * *

Severus' blood was boiling as he sat in his place at the staff table, glowering even more than usual. That miserable godling! James Potter, the so-called 'Mighty Thor', had not changed one bit since his school days. As ever, he sought out Severus and humiliated him. And unlike during their school days, Severus had few overt means of fighting back. How do you curse someone who is not only a deadly skilled duellist, if not quite his equal, but also has the very elements on his side and has a hide thicker than any giant's, doubtless to match his the skull of his oversized head!

He'd been doing his research. Full blooded Asgardians tended to be immune to any Earthly poison or disease, something that no doubt made Potter Senior even smugger than he already was, quite an achievement. They also tended towards ridiculous durability and strength and a natural talent for magic, though, conversely, it was rare that it manifested in the style of mortal magic, and generally had to be trained and coaxed into life.

In other words, Potter was even more muscle headed than before, even brasher, stupider and more irritating. Oh, and don't forget the overbearing. That man had the sheer gall to first threaten him with violence, intimate him and force him to agree to his demands to treat his son specially well, then to spread his victory around the school, causing students to whisper about him whenever they thought he wasn't looking.

And after all of that, he didn't even pay Severus any attention, save to _pretend _to be polite when they crossed paths. Severus knew the truth, though. Potter was laughing at him inside. Each word he spoke to Severus carried, to his ears, an undertone of mockery. A soft chant of, _Look at me, look at how I have everything you ever wanted while you have __**nothing**__._

Potter had power beyond imagining. Potter had respect and willing minions at the snap of a finger. Potter had friends, even if they were insufferable dullards, but that was fine for Potter as he was with those who matched his limited intellect. He was even Loki's brother! Oh, how Severus had studied that dark, mysterious, mischievious god as a boy, how he had looked up to him, identified with him!

One of the ways he had been lured into the Death Eaters was a meeting with the Dark Lord, who had listened to his woes and his interest in Loki, and encouraged him to emulate the darker aspects of his idol, to get even with his foes. He had even seen the Dark Lord as being like Loki, a dark, shadowy, charismatic figure, who would lead the clever, downtrodden wizards against the brainless muggles and even more brainless Gryffindors who insisted on defending them.

While Severus was not one to keep up with the muggle world, it had been impossible to miss Loki's invasion of Earth. He had been almost happy to see that his idol was alive and well. Though he could not really care less whether muggles lived or died, and was somewhat against mass destruction, he could appreciate the fact that Loki had defeated his brother, Thor, who Severus had always thought was the archetypal Gryffindor: large, stupid and violent, and defeated him outright. That suspicion was confirmed, as regarding Thor. He didn't entirely approve a madmen seeking to rule all, but to see someone he so identified with standing tall and powerful, as respected as he was feared… that was gratifying.

And now, to see him in cahoots with _Potter _of all people, to see him teaching and playing kindly uncle with the wretched Potter spawn, his insufferable muggleborn friend and those _fucking_ twins, whilst regarding Severus himself like he was something scraped off a shoe that he was debating vanishing was not unlike Loki's famous fate of being bound with the entrails of his son and having burning poison dripped onto him for all eternity to Severus. It was that deepest of betrayals, and to say he was deeply, bitterly disappointed was an understatement.

But there was one thing worse. Potter had had Lily. Darling Lily, beautiful Lily, all green eyes, red hair, full figure, fire and brilliance. Yet she had fallen under Potter's spell, while Severus had watched helpless as she turned her back on him forever. For a while, he had hated her for it. But he could never hate her. Not for long. She was Lily. No one could bring themselves to hate her, not if they knew her well. His fellow Death Eaters had hated her because she was living proof that not all mudbloods were useless near-Squibs and that she defied their Lord, as well as being the mother of the one their Lord had deemed it necessary to destroy personally.

He snarled softly. "She should have been mine," he whispered under his breath. No one heard him.

Dumbledore knew, that irritating old man who had immediately used it to maximum advantage, as did the Dark Lord, who had said, "Oh, my dear Severus, you can do better than some Mudblood whore! Come, you are one of my most loyal, and any pureblood witch would be glad to marry a wizard of your noble blood. Do not let your lust for one mudblood infect you, Severus." That last part had been a threat, the stick to go with the implicit carrot that he could have any unmarried pureblood witch he wanted. The Dark Lord had been good at that, he remembered, blending threat and charm as naturally as breathing.

Ah, Lily. Others knew. Loki did, though how he had no idea. Maybe even Doctor Strange, or as he had known him, Professor Strange, who had given him knowing looks on many an occasion. Potter had figured it out, in a rare and vastly irritating display of intellect. And he had used it as a _weapon_. He had pointed out why every time he saw the brat he could not bear to look at him, how he _hated _him with every fibre of his being. He embodied what he had lost, with those luminous, expressive emerald green eyes that had been Lily's. Luminous, expressive emerald green eyes that often expressed dull confusion in her son, who inherited his father's arrogance as well his lack of intellect, doing a disservice to her blood as he did so. No, he did a disservice to her and her sacrifice just by _breathing._ Why should he and Potter live when she was dead?

That child should have been his. A boy, who would have had _his _hair, his face, his features, and his mother's eyes… or a girl, maybe, who would have had his eyes, and his mother's sweet face and hair that shone in the light like the fire at the heart of the most perfect ruby. And her smile… ah, that would be common to both, like her mind, a smile to melt the hardest heart and a mind to discern it's inner workings in a heartbeat. Maybe, just maybe, she would have loved him, if she'd only given him the chance to show her what greatness she could achieve with him and the Dark Lord.

Yet Potter, smirking, swaggering, arrogant Potter had swooped in and charmed her to the side of the self-righteous and her doom, damn him! And he didn't even seem to care! You'd think he would grieve, but oh no, it was all smiles. Dumbledore had even casually mentioned that he had a new girlfriend. If that was not proof that he was not worthy of Lily, then Severus didn't know what was. Severus had not forgotten her. He would _never _forget her. He'd gone too far for her to do that. He sighed inwardly. He would go on protecting her brat, he supposed. For her sake. No one else's.

"Severus?"

He looked up sourly. McGonagall was looking at him curiously. "Yes, Minerva?" he asked, tone cold.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine, thank you," he growled.

"Good," she said. "Now, can you pass the salt?"

Silently, he passed it to her, and resumed brooding. McGonagall had turned to talk to the Headmaster as if she had never spoken to him. No one really cared for or about Severus Snape. Respected him, feared him… not since Potter's return. Potter, who, solely by existing, managed to ruin Severus. And people wondered why he hated the man, him and his brat, darlings of the Wizarding world and doubtless the muggle world too. He hated them because he saw them for what they really were. And because no one else agreed with him.

* * *

It was night-time in the Tower. Harry, Thor (as James) and Loki had formed a dark haired Asgardian pile on the sofa in front of the fire. The rest of the Avengers responded as they saw fit.

Tony very carefully drew moustaches on all of them before going to sleep at the foot of Pepper's bed – he was still a bit in the doghouse, but not so much that he wasn't allowed on the bed. Bruce gently slipped a pillow under Thor's head. Harry's was pillowed by his father, and Loki was leaning on his brother's shoulder. Natasha ran a critical eye over them, then, satisfied that they were all comfortable and hadn't been poisoned, smiled slightly at Harry, then walked on quietly. Clint did much the same as Natasha, but gently reached down and ruffled Harry's hair, before leaving. And Steve? Steve set himself up quietly in an armchair and began to sketch.

A couple of hours later, he was done. He considering waking them, then decided against it. Instead, he went to the supply cupboard and brought out a large duvet, which he carefully draped over the three, before leaving the sketch on the coffee table and leaving for bed.

The next morning, Loki woke first, and very carefully didn't move. He took stock. He was still on the sofa in Avengers Tower, nestled with Thor and Harry. Who both had carefully drawn moustaches on their respective top lips. Clearly Tony's work, he thought with a wry smile.

His head was pillowed by a cushion – Bruce or Steve, he thought. And they were covered by a duvet that had been neatly put in place, probably by Steve. Bruce was too small, and as tender as the Hulk had shown himself to be with Harry, Loki really didn't think him to be the duvet arranging type.

A piece of paper on the coffee table caught his eye. He summoned it to him and examined it. He smiled. It was a picture of the three of them cuddled up on the sofa, done with methodical care and attention to detail, one that captured the essence of them. He banished it back to the coffee table and snuggled up to his brother and nephew. He wasn't going to miss this opportunity for a cuddle, no matter how undignified it might look. He would of course, never admit it in a million years.

About three hours later, despite general attempts to keep quiet by the rest – even Tony – the hustle and bustle of the Tower woke first Loki and then Harry. Thor, quite accustomed to sleeping through thunderstorms, Volstagg's stomach in full digestion mode and Sirius' snoring, peacefully slept on. Therefore, Harry decided to stay cuddled up to his father, and pretended to be asleep. Loki gave him a conspiratorial wink, before wandering into the kitchen and making some coffee. He could have made it by magic, but somehow, it tasted better this way. That and Tony almost literally rose from the dead for Loki's coffee. The smell of it being made was generally a reliable way to entice the Avengers into the kitchen and had been ever since Loki had arrived. The only difference now was that they didn't make him taste it first, just in case it was poisoned.

"Morning Loki," Pepper said, smiling. "How did you sleep?"

"Very well, actually," Loki said and leaned in conspiratorially. "Harry is awake. He is just pretending he is not." He smiled. "My nephew feels that he has a lot of cuddling to catch up on."

"And being doted on," Pepper said. "He makes half-hearted complaints when I do it, but he secretly loves it."

Loki chuckled. "That is very true." His smile faded. "That poor boy has been starved of love."

"Not anymore," Pepper said, and smirked. "He even gets maternal feelings out of _Natasha_, somehow or other. I think it's the hair. And the eyes. They just make you want to grab him and hug him."

"He'll be a hit with the girls in a couple of years," Loki predicted.

"Oh, definitely. With parents like that, how couldn't he?" Pepper said. "Thor, whatever he looks like, is a very handsome man, and Lily was absolutely stunning."

"Yes… my brother always did have excellent taste in women," Loki mused.

"One thing that's bugged me is that Thor didn't remember Harry, but you did. Why didn't you do or say anything?" Pepper asked.

"Oh, I wanted to," Loki said quietly. "I wanted to very badly. When I saw the sort of people he was going to be forced to live with for his own safety, I begged father to let me bring him to Asgard, to be raised as part of the royal household, or even to let me find him a more suitable family. He refused, even when mother pleaded with him. He was sorrowful, but he said some things had to be the way they were, and if Thor remembered, then it could be catastrophic. He banned me in particular from doing anything that might arouse Thor's memories."

"But you broke the enchantment a few weeks back," Pepper said. "Aren't you breaking his command?"

Loki shrugged and smirked. "What sort of son and God of Mischief am I if I _don't _indulge in a little harmless rebellion against my parents, every now and then?" he asked. "Besides, father hasn't come down to tell me off, so I assume he approves." He paused. "I did manage to do a few things for Harry, every now and then. I visited Midgard often, and kept an eye on him. It broke my heart to see his treatment, and I had to restrain myself from wreaking horrible vengeance on the Dursleys on many an occasion."

He looked into the middle distance, remembering. Remembering the night James Potter had died alongside his wife, and Thor had returned unexpectedly to Asgard. He began to speak again, hands dancing and creating images to aid the storytelling.

* * *

It was a dark October night – or November morning, depending on how one looked at it – cool and quiet in the southern English suburban neighbourhood of Little Whinging, and Loki was agitated to say the least. Their plans for Thor, his own and his father's, which had been proceeding so smoothly, had been ruined by one cowardly, death fearing, power hungry wizard. In one stroke, his brother was left desolate and raving, a woman who would have been a great partner, a great mother, a magnificent future Queen of Asgard and, Loki had privately hoped, a great friend, was dead, and their son was left an orphan. All for desire of power.

The very thought made Loki's blood boil, and he vowed that if he ever came across the shade of the creature that had wrought this horror, it would suffer agonies uncounted. Asgard was in turmoil since Thor had so suddenly returned to his true form, and gone mad with grief – not the Loki blamed him in the slightest – so much so that their father had been forced to block his memories. Loki thought that Thor would probably be back to his old, boisterous self as soon as he returned, with no memory of his wife or his son. Carefree because he quite simply did not remember the cares that he had taken upon himself.

He watched as the elderly wizard, Albus Dumbledore, put out the lights. Loki liked him. He was clever, and – as mortals went – extremely powerful. Only one, a Doctor Strange, matched him, along with the fallen Dark Lord Voldemort. He also sought to try to do what was right, however he could. Loki knew that Dumbledore was doing the best he could with the horrible hand he had been dealt, but he was uneasy.

He, like the shapeshifting sorceress who was currently objecting to Dumbledore's makeshift and hastily cobbled together plan, did not like the look of the family that were Harry's mortal kin. He did not like the look of them at all. He had watched the mother in connection to Lily in the past, and had seen a bitter, jealous woman, both envious and fearing her sister's power, beauty and brilliance. She hadn't, as Loki had, sought to match her brilliant sibling on her own terms. No, she had let the bitterness fester and grow until it consumed her. And he feared what would happen when she came to take care of her nephew.

He watched, silent and undetectable, as a giant on a strange flying mortal conveyance landed, and tenderly handed a small bundle to Dumbledore, who took it tenderly. A closer look told Loki that it was his nephew. He smiled. Even on this night of tragedies, he thought, there was still something beautiful in this dark realm. He watched as the giant clearly had difficulty restraining his sorrow, then as the three left. When he was certain they were gone, he slipped over to his nephew. Harry James Potter. Named for his father, in part at least. He lifted the child in his arms, cradling him. He cast an illusion over them, dispelling his own disguise. Anyone looking at them would merely see the baby as he had been left.

He cradled the baby, who wriggled slightly in his sleep, and smiled involuntarily. The child was beautiful, even with the jagged scar marring his forehead. Loki gently ran a thumb over his nephew's mostly smooth forehead. His eyes were shut, but he knew that when little Harry opened them, he would reveal eyes as green as his own, with only a shade or two of difference. He had hoped to cradle the child, his lovely nephew, hold him and tell him he loved him, letting in show in his own eyes, to watch him grow and play among people who valued him.

But that wouldn't, he thought sadly, happen for a long time. The baby had looked into the eyes of a person, no, two people, who loved him not two hours before, yet Loki feared it would be a good ten years before he did so again. To his surprise, the baby blinked his eyes open, one set of green eyes focusing on another. Loki hurriedly set up a silencing ward, in case the baby started crying. As it was, the baby just looked at him, then said one word.

"Dada?"

It was so innocent, so puzzled, yet at the same time, so happy, that it broke Loki's heart into little pieces.

"No little one," he said softly. "I am not your dada. But I am your uncle. I am your kin. And know this Harry. I am your family, and I will always love you."

Little Harry blinked, then seemed to accept this turn of events. His curious eyes, however, spurred Loki to say more.

"And your father?" Loki continued. "He may not remember you now, and may never again, but deep down, in the small part of him that does remember you… he loves you. Oh, he loves you so much more than words can say, nephew mine."

He hummed gently as he rocked Harry to sleep again. Hours passed, and as the grey light of dawn began to break, he gently put the sleeping child down on the front step, and kissed his forehead. "I will be watching out for you, little one," he said quietly. "So swears Loki, on his broken heart and crooked soul."

Then he turned and trudged away, slipping back along the secret paths between the worlds. Normally, he felt a soft thrill of cheer at the feat of slipping past Heimdall's watch. Now? Now that joy was dulled as everything was. Dulled by pain, not only for lost lives, but for lost innocence, lost joy and lost hope as well.

* * *

"For months afterwards, I was disconsolate. Thor was, of course, at first oblivious, then both worried and puzzled. Sif knew, as I confided in her. She supported me in my attempts to alleviate Harry's suffering in small, subtle ways, making my excuses to the others," Loki continued quietly. "Even though for every kindness I did him, they did him a hundred wrongs, far greater than the kindnesses I could manage, I persevered. And she helped me."

"She sounds like a kind woman," Pepper sniffed, wiping away tears. She had started crying quite soon into the story. "Oh god, Loki… I'm so sorry. That must have hurt so much, and to be never able to tell Thor or your parents."

"It did," Loki said, offering her a conjured handkerchief. "There, there. Dry your eyes, Lady Pepper. Harry is with people who love him, and his supposed kin are suffering a fate they richly deserve. Everything has, though it has been a long time in coming, been set to rights. Besides, if you are still crying when Stark comes in, he will assume I have upset you. Then horrible things shall happen, both to him and to me, and you will need to refurbish the Tower again."

Pepper nodded, and taking the conjured handkerchief – red and gold – from Loki with a muttered, "Thanks," she dried her eyes then blew her nose.

"Keep it," Loki said, when she tried to hand it back.

She nodded, and gave him a tight, brief hug. "You're a good man, Loki. Never believe anyone who tells you different," she said firmly. Then she released him. "Now, do I smell coffee?"

"Indeed you do," Loki said. "Steven, do you want some?" he asked, as the supersoldier walked in.

"No thanks, Loki. I'm trying a fruit smoothie that Jane recommended," Steve said, and set about setting up the smoothie machine with banana, pear, apple and melon, not noticing Loki's slight frown. Loki was justly proud of his coffee, and tended to take it being ignored as a personal slight – no matter how unintended. Tony joked that it was transference behaviour from his ego.

Loki and Pepper watched in mild apprehension as Steve turned on the machine. Steve was just about capable of operating a toaster, an ipod and a laptop, the latter two after several months of intense tuition and Steve being scarred for life by internet pornography.

Tony had found him desperately trying to turn off the computer, before resorting to punching it. Naturally, Tony had laughed himself sick and shown no sympathy. Steve still flinched slightly every time someone brought up a video on screen and mumbled how two girls shouldn't do such things with a cup. He had never tried to use the smoothie machine before. Remarkably, however, it seemed to going fine.

"Wow Steve, you're doing great," Pepper said.

Steve favoured her with a smile, then frowned as Loki looked concerned. "Thanks Pepper. What is it, Loki?"

"Nothing… there's just something a little off about the lid," Loki said, voice carefully measured to have the right amount of mild curiosity and concern, all of it feigned. Steve turned to examine it closely and Loki winked at Pepper.

"I don't see anything wrong," Steve said doubtfully, nose only an inch or two away from the lid.

"Really?" Loki asked, feigning surprise. "How about now?"

The lid vanished. Steve barely had time to yelp before the sludgy mixture shot out of the machine and coated most things within five feet of it. This mostly consisted of Steve's face.

Loki grinned as he covered himself and Pepper with a magical shield, as Pepper sighed and shook her head.

"Maybe coffee might suit better, Steven?" Loki said, tone completely innocent.

"Yeah, Loki," Steve sighed. "Whatever you say. I'm going to clean up now."

Loki idly waved a hand. The mess disappeared.

"No need," he said, smiling cheerfully. "You like yours with milk and no sugar, correct?" he asked, pouring a cup.

"Yes, thank you, Loki," Steve said, and watched as Loki carefully added milk, then passed it to him. He sipped it. He supposed it could be worse. It did happen to be excellent coffee.

Ten minutes or so later, Thor arose, smiled at his son, and gently coaxed him into 'waking up'. Both moved, sleep ruffled and looking utterly identical, into the kitchen. They were even wearing similar clothes, red t-shirts and jeans. The only difference was Harry's glasses.

As both munched on toast and cereal, Tony walked in, equally sleep ruffled, grabbed a coffee, grunted his thanks, and took in the scene, as Bruce followed, having already been up for two hours. As his eyes brightened while sipped the coffee, visibly waking up, he looked thoughtful.

"Hey, Thor, can you conjure a pair of glasses like your kids'?" he asked. Normally, he would have asked Loki, but Thor's newfound/rediscovered magical abilities were a source of endless fascination to him.

Thor blinked and did so.

"Put them on."

Thor did and looked at Tony, he and Harry sharing identical expressions of curiosity and puzzlement.

Tony drew himself up, grinned. This was too good to miss. So naturally, he didn't. He said, in a nasal, high british accented voice, "And I shall call him… Mini-me."

Bruce snorted, then burst into outright laughter at Harry and Thor's – again, identical – expressions of complete and utter befuddlement.

"Tony," Pepper said, amused and chiding. "That's a bit rude."

"But funny, and come on, Pep, it fits so badly," Tony said. "Hey, JARVIS, take a few pics."

"Certainly, sir," JARVIS said, obliging.

"Why am I suddenly called Mini me?" Harry asked.

Tony opened his mouth.

"You don't want to know," Steve said firmly. He'd previously expressed an interest in the James Bond movies. Naturally, Tony had interpreted this as, 'please introduce me to Austin Powers and give a running commentary on which of the actresses you have slept with and which sexual positions you explored in doing so'.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Tony pouted. "You realise he will just go and ask JARVIS," he pointed out.

"It's better he hears it from JARVIS than from you," Pepper said. "He has better morals."

"You mean he has morals," Steve muttered, then his eyes widened.

Tony cackled, as Loki smirked.

"The Captain strikes like a snake in the grass: all the better for being unexpected," Loki chuckled, sipping his coffee."

"You have weird ideas of what is 'better'," Bruce observed.

Loki shrugged, as if to say, 'weird to you, maybe.'

"You do realise that we are talking to a guy who can legitimately turn into a snake," Tony pointed out.

Bruce nodded his acknowledgement. "True."

Harry turned to his father. "Is every morning like this?" he asked.

"Most. Not all."

"Okay," Harry said, returning to his cereal.

The rest of the morning was passed in companionable chatter, aside from an incident where Natasha and Pepper frogmarched Harry off to a bathroom and brushed his hair to try and make it lie flat, Tony of course laughing himself sick at Harry's beleaguered expression, until Pepper chucked him out for one threesome joke too many, to be exact, "Why the long face, kid? You've got two gorgeous redheads holding you down and giving you orders. In a year, you'll be _begging_ for this and dreaming about it. Of course, they'll be wearing a lot less and more of it'll probably be black. Bet you ten dollars."

Harry had looked puzzled and mildly distressed, while Natasha had cocked an eyebrow, Clint had been sniggering in the background, Bruce had been sighing at Tony's corruption of the youth, Loki and Thor had been amused and Pepper had given Tony a Glare of Death and said, "Out."

He had swiftly complied.

It spoke volumes of their effectiveness that it succeeded, until after lunch, when Harry's hair resumed its normal form. Pepper and Natasha's expressions suggested that this was not over, while Harry, seeing those expressions, had retreated to the safety of one of the few people he thought might conceivably defy the two. And took the opportunity to ask a few questions.

"One thing I've always wondered," Harry said thoughtfully to Loki. "Is how you won over the Avengers when you were sane again. I mean, after all you'd done…"

Loki looked thoughtful. "It wasn't easy," he admitted. "It was a long process, but one incident sticks out…"

He began to speak, and Harry listened. Loki was not called Silvertongue for nothing.

* * *

Loki was adjusting to life in the Tower. It was all too easy to remember that not so long ago, he'd tried to destroy it. He glanced at one of the windows. That was the window he'd thrown Stark through. He closed his eyes. What things he had done in madness, under the influence of the Mad Titan. Still, he was here to repent of his mistakes.

He saw Steve and ambled over. The soldier. He had been the one of the Avengers he had personally harmed least – though attempting to destroy the man's beloved city had _not_ gone over well – and he was generally the nicest. Tony was slowly warming up to him, and the sharp, witty barbs they exchanged were now less cruel and more friendly. Doctor Banner's eyes tended to glow an ominous green when he was around, and once, when Loki had made one smart remark too many, he had said, calmly, relaxed and unworried, "Puny God."

Loki had shut up very quickly.

"What are those?" he asked curiously. Steve was examining a set of stained cards somewhat sadly. He looked closer. "Are they images of you?" he asked.

Steve nodded. "I was pretty much America's poster boy during the war," he explained.

Loki nodded. "I have seen similar images of Thor and father, the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three in Asgard," he said. He paused. "There used to be some of me, but I am not exactly… what is the phrase? Ah. 'Flavour of the month'," he said.

Steve nodded. "I never liked them much," he admitted. "I always felt they were too gimmicky."

"Still… whoever owns these must value you and your achievements very much. Stains aside, these are very well preserved," Loki said admiringly. "As well as anything in my personal library, and that uses magic." He frowned. "Who do they belong to? And how were they stained?"

"Agent Coulson," Steve said quietly, and it suddenly dawned on Loki what had damaged such beautifully preserved objects. The blood of the son of Coul, which he had so unjustly shed, mostly to spite his brother, marred them forever. He imagined what he would have felt if something of similar significance to him had been marred. Gut wrenching pain and anger was most likely.

"Oh," Loki said quietly. "Well," he said. "Since I caused them to be damaged, I must make amends for it," he said firmly.

"These are one of a kind," Steve said. "I looked them up. They're pretty much unique, a set this well preserved."

"I talk not of replacing them, Captain," Loki said. "But of fixing them." He concentrated hard and carefully gestured. The stains melted away, leaving the cards clean and unstained.

Steve stared at them, then smiled wide eyed at Loki, who smiled. "Magic is not only a weapon for destroying," he said quietly. "Mjolnir itself can as easily be used to build as it can to destroy. Magic is a gift, to be used for the benefit of others, not simply oneself. That is the lesson with all power." He looked saddened. "Alas, the lesson I taught my students, the most important lesson of all, is the one that I forswore." He sighed. "I cannot return the Son of Coul to you, but I can at least undo some small part of what I have wrought."

Steve smiled at him. It was a genuine smile. "Thank you, Loki," he said.

* * *

"There were others," Loki said, coming back to the present as Harry listened attentively. "Such as my help in getting Stark to overcome his trauma caused by flying a nuclear missile through the portal, which largely consisted of letting him beat me up in that suit of his. It was preferable to having his semi-independent armours jumping on me every time he had a panic attack. Being dogpiled by several sentient suits of armour is not a pleasant experience. Anyhow, that was the chief one. They started looking at me more as a friend, after that, though Clint still spent the next six months 'testing my reflexes' with arrows shot at random times of day or not." He shrugged. "It stopped once I let one hit me in the shoulder and explode." He smirked. "That gave him a right shock, and certainly satisfied his desire for vengeance."

"But, your shoulder," Harry began, eyes wide.

"Easily mended by a sorcerer of my skills and inherent healing abilities," Loki said calmly. "We of the Aesir can regenerate all but missing limbs, given time, unless the wound itself is prevented from healing."

"Didn't it hurt?"

"It did, a lot," Loki admitted. "But I have suffered worse, and I cast numbing charms once Clint seemed to be satisfied by my suffering, in recompense for my forcible remodelling of his mind." He chuckled. "Clint and I got on a lot better, after that."

"That's… a bit messed up," Harry said.

Loki laughed. Harry was very much his father's son, blunt and to the point. It was refreshing, when compared with his regular dealings with those who measured each word for the advantage it would bring them, each phrase meaning fifty different things to fifty different people. That was one reason he liked the Avengers. Oh, they had their secrets, but they rarely directly lied to each other. They might mislead or outright omit information, but rarely lie – unless it was Tony about how much sleep he had had or alcohol he had consumed, and one of Pepper's patented Looks could generally get him to admit the truth.

"That is probably true," he admitted, then he smiled at his nephew. "Now, I must go and try once more to track down your elusive godfather," he said.

Harry smiled back. "If anyone could find him," he said seriously. "It's you."

Loki smiled. One reason he loved his nephew was his childish unshakeable trust in those he cared about. It could come to bring him grief in the future, and Loki resolved to teach him to temper it with a realistic world view, but… it was undeniably endearing.

He hugged him. "I will do my best to honour your faith in me," he said, letting him go. "Now, I think Tony and Bruce are planning a new experiment."

"Does it blow up?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Considering those two, almost certainly, even if it involves materials that logic dictates should not explode, such as water, bread, clay and cakes," Loki said dryly. This referred to an incident the day before in which Pepper had bought a chocolate cake and Tony had decided to fill it with low level explosives to liven it up, with a magnesium flare for 'the world's most badass candle'.

Unfortunately, he, Darcy and Bruce had juiced them up and the result had been a chocolate coated kitchen. Harry had, in the fashion of teenage boys everywhere, thought this was the best thing ever. Tony maintained that it was only his obvious happiness behind chocolate smeared sunglasses that had saved him from being skinned alive by Pepper, and that Harry was therefore allowed to sit in on all of his and Bruce's experiments that he wished to.

Harry grinned. "Awesome." Then he ran off. He would be going back to school later that evening, Loki noted, and to his pleasure, he also noted that Harry was, for what was probably the first time in his life, wishing he could stay at home. He'd admitted such to Thor that morning, who had beamed and said that Christmas was not far away.

Of course, Loki thought, neither was Harry's first public engagement. He would have to prepare things, he mused, and teach Harry the basics of etiquette, which he had so far passed over, in favour of the more practical lessons of being royalty, such as 'beware not just greeks bearing gifts, but everyone who does not have your total trust.'

Yes. He had work to do.

**Okay, a few warnings for up ahead. **

**One, this is starting off relatively light, fluffy, good conquers all, evil grovels at the feet of the righeous. Which is largely how the Harry Potter books started, and comics too, come to that. That is going to change soon. This fic is going to grow steadily darker. Good guys will go dark, bad guys… there'll be a little more to them. Good won't always win. Far from it… *cackles***

**Two, I will be blending canons like mad, taking influences from the Marvel Films Universe (bedrock of this continuity), the Mainstream Marvel Comics Universe, the Ultimate Marvel Universe, X-Men: Evolution, Spectacular Spiderman, the X-Men Films and many others, with a side order of Fanon. Why? Well, largely because I can, because I want to, and because it spices things up a little. The ensuing mess will bear my stylistic stamp, and some creative liberties may be taken with certain characters. This will be mostly caused by the ripple effect of this continuity mix up and, in some cases, me being a little unfamiliar with the original material. **

**A particular example of this will be Doctor Strange. There are several very good reasons for this, largely based on the nature of his character, which is intentionally different from any other version. I intend to keep you people guessing for a **_**long **_**time about him, as he will have a very key, if vaguely off stage, role to play in the overarching plot arc.**

**Three, if you recognise something from another fic, book, film or tv series, I may well have consciously, or more likely unconsciously, borrowed it. I read and watch widely, and it seeps into my head, influencing my writing style.**

**The main influences for this fic (yes, influences) are a fantastic Harry Lokison fic that is floating around on fanfiction dot net, which inspired the whole idea, the Last Son series by the Writer With No Name (which, despite my gripes about its overpowered Kryptonians, underpowered Thor (who seems to be rated as around Storm level. He really isn't. He is much, much more powerful) and irritating love interest who thankfully improves with time, is a phenomenal piece of writing with fascinating world building, which made me turn my epic scale story writing ideas to the Avengers. **

**Nods also go to Bella the Strange's awesome fic 'The Magic of Torchwood', which, along with regular correspondence with her, influenced my additions of an emotional dimension to upcoming events, and helped me learn how to write more subtle pain and how it affects characters. It also gave me a few ideas as to how to manage fitting new characters into an established plot and keep it going without metric tons of exposition and keeping the story character driven. **

**The Dresden Files and the Codex Alera by Jim Butcher influenced the sheer scale of the arcs and the sheer amounts of protagonist torture, as well as the snark and pop culture references.**

**The ever intriguing (if oddly written) SmallvilleX:Evolution series is also up there, the Buffyverse, the Whoniverse and Smallville (which largely forms the basis – Harry, like Clark, discovering his inhuman heritage, mastering the powers that come with it, accepting it and understanding it and seeing how he fits in with the wider world, all the while dealing with classic teenage boy issues (romance, in large part).**

**Last but not least, there is a touch of Neil Gaiman here and there, as he is pretty much the most awesome writer in the history of ever. I am something of a fanboy.**

**Of course, others are floating around, including just about every author I ever read, but those are some of the main ones. And yes, this is one long ass author's note, I know. Just felt it was worth saying.**


	9. Chapter 9: Protecting People You Love

**Okay, a few suspicions as to just who Harry's mysterious other muggle relatives via his muggle grandmother are will be all but confirmed, as for Harry's muggle grandfather, well, Evans was a surname he took when he joined SHIELD, so there are relatives there too. Feel free to guess. **

**I did consider making Peggy Carter Harry's grandmother or great grandmother, but it doesn't work for my plots and plans. Also, she isn't extant in this universe (in the Avengers, she is still alive, and it was touched upon in a deleted scene) from quite soon after World War II and never really found anyone other than Steve – aside from a few one night stands with Howard Stark which came to nothing. Also, she would never have stood for Petunia's shit. And yet another reason is that she is the great-aunt of another character in this world. I will let you guess, but she kicks arse as much as her great-aunt.**

**Elizabeth: Good guess, but no. Agent Wisdom's a white guy, and more anti-heroic than Kingsley. This is a man you very definitely do not want to cross. The Marvel Peter Wisdom's backstory holds a few clues, if you can decipher them.**

**Guest: Interesting, and not wrong. It would be a very Merlin and Nimue idea, but it's not happening. In some ways, she's too like him. As for Loki, I've set up with a couple of other people at different points. The second will probably have many people nodding. The first with have people saying 'WTF?'.**

**Oh, and for those who don't know, I don't really have a beta, except for the fantastic FaceChanger (who betas stuff I send her when I get bored) and the lovely people on the 'The Magic of Torchwood' Facebook group, including the author of the fic in question, the brilliant BellaTheStrange. I cannot recommend her stuff enough - stories don't get TV Tropes pages by accident. **

The flight back was a long one, five and a half hours even with Tony's Stark Industries jet, and Harry spent a lot of that time asleep, tired out by the occasionally life threatening and always interesting events of the weekend, sprawled across the cream coloured sofa style seats, heading resting on his father's lap. Thor, in his James Potter form, was holding him close, covering him with a blanket and occasionally ran a hand through his hair. Even Tony trod lightly around the two, and they were unbothered.

Pepper came in and paused, smiling at the tableau before her. "If he's this cute now," she said softly. "He must have caused _cavities_ as a baby."

Thor let out a soft chuckle as he looked up at her. He shifted back to his accustomed form. He tended to unconsciously do that when speaking to one of the Avengers. "I'll let you judge for yourself. There are a few family albums in the Potter vault, and I believe Harry himself has one." He looked back down at Harry. "Everyone says he looks just like me. But he doesn't. Well, he looks very like me," he elaborated. "But only in facial structure and hair. His mannerisms, like his eyes, are all Lily. The way his eyes sparkle when he is happy, the way they and his face harden when he is determined, even the way he smiles, the way he thinks and the way he laughs… is all, to me, so painfully like Lily."

"It must be hard," Pepper said sympathetically.

"A little," Thor admitted. "But seeing those smiles… it's like standing in a ray of sunlight on a warm Spring day. Sad yes, because of the strong hint of Winter that still clings to it, but all the more glorious because Summer is coming soon, and things can only get better."

"You wouldn't swap him for anything in the world, would you?" Pepper said knowingly, wondering at Thor's bout of eloquence. This wasn't a new event, as while Thor was a warrior first and foremost, large, bluff, boisterous and cheerful, he was also a Prince with a courtly manner.

"Not for all the power and knowledge in the Nine Realms," Thor said softly. "Not for anything. The greatest treasure that has ever existed is sleeping in my lap. He is the Jewel of the House of Odin. Even the legendary Arkenstone could not compare." He looked at Pepper again, eyes bright with emotion. "He is my child, and _nothing_ can compare." His smile too turned knowing. "Something that you too will one day understand."

Pepper flushed slightly. "I do want kids someday, but not before Tony is ready, because…"

"Because you want them to be his," Thor finished. "You want to hold your son or daughter in your arms and know that he or she is Tony's as well, a little miracle you made together."

"Okay, insightful is a little unsettling coming from you, no offence," Pepper said, with a soft laugh.

"None is taken, Pepper. It is good to be able to surprise people. A good commander learns to read both friend and foe," Thor said, a slight smile on his face. "I have the advantages of a thousand years of experience and also of being a father."

He gently stroked Harry's head. "You'll make an excellent mother someday, Pepper, as Tony will make an excellent father – although he does not believe it," Thor said.

"So, you think children is on the cards for us?" Pepper asked curiously.

"I think every one of the Avengers could yet be parents," Thor said. "My bet on whose next is either you and Tony or Clint and Natasha." He looked around. "But don't tell them I said that," he said, tone slightly nervous.

Pepper smothered a laugh. "I don't need to."

"She's right behind me, isn't she?" Thor said, tone resigned.

"Yup."

Thor turned to see Natasha, who cocked an eyebrow at him.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"The relevant parts."

"So, all of it."

"Yes. All of it."

Thor gave a martyred sigh. "Tell Harry I died bravely," he said to Pepper, tone solemn. "Lady Widow, I take it I am to die for my offence?"

"No, but I wouldn't eat any of your pop tarts any time soon. You wouldn't like the results. And yes, I know where you keep your secret stash," Natasha said, walking through to join the others.

Thor's expression was one of utter horror. "Death," he whispered. "Would have been kinder."

Pepper left as she got a bad case of the giggles.

Thor looked dolefully down at his son, shifting back to James Potter form. "At least you didn't hear any of that," he sighed.

Harry's right eye cracked open. "Oh, I heard all of it," he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Next time you talk about Nat like that, do it where she isn't hearing," he advised.

Thor stared at him. "And I would advise you not to call her 'Nat'," he warned. "She doesn't like it for some reason and only let's Clint do it. Tony tried it once. The results were not pretty." Natasha had said nothing, but had slipped military grade laxatives into his drink. Tony had not repeated the name.

Harry shrugged as if it was nothing. "She said it was cool," he said, then he yawned and wriggled into a more comfortable position, before going back to sleep. Thor stared down at him. Harry didn't even know the significance of what had happened, he thought. The significance of being allowed to use that name. Maybe, he reflected, that was exactly why she let him use it.

And for some reason, the red haired assassin had taken an instant liking to Harry, though she hadn't shown it overtly. Thor wouldn't have noticed at all if he hadn't seen her idly ruffle his hair when the two were getting a mid-afternoon snack, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a gesture he might have expected from Lily, and for a moment, he considered the outlandish theory that Lily lived on in Natasha. He dismissed it. At most, there was an echo, like he had heard, or thought he had heard, in the Hogwarts grounds, and he doubted even that. Lily was dead, and he had to accept that.

His thought processes moving back to why Natasha had shown vague maternal inclinations towards Harry. Maybe it was because Harry was still a child, and had a certain childish innocence about him despite all he'd been through – something remarkable in and of itself, an innocence that the Avengers, Natasha and Loki in particular, cherished, simply because they had lost that same innocence so long ago.

Maybe it was because Natasha secretly wanted children of her own, and Harry could, at a glance, have been taken for her son – they had very similar eyes and a similarly strong – but differing – bone structure. It was not impossible that they were distantly related, but, he deemed, unlikely. Lily's father had been of American extraction, he recalled, and her mother's family was more Scottish than Russian, though he thought that some of the Grey clan existed in America, with the same stunning red hair and green eyes. Maybe it was because Harry reminded her of someone in her past, a little brother, or a similar figure, someone she had taken care of. He shrugged inwardly. Natasha was a closed book and kept her own counsel often enough.

"You are a mystery, my boy," he said softly, cuddling Harry close. "A wonderful mystery."

And, it occurred to him, that was yet another reason for her to like him.

As soon as Harry got back to school, gave his father, uncle, Pepper and Natasha – who gave everyone looks that said she would murder them and no one would find the bodies if this got out - final hugs, gravely shook Jane's hand, said goodbye to the rest, then walked into the entrance hall. Hermione immediately pounced on him, hugged him and began bombarding him with questions.

"Merlin, Hermione, let the man breathe," Ron said, blinking at the girl, who paused and took a deep breath.

"Sorry," she said. "But Avengers Tower, what is it like? What are the Avengers like?"

"Awesome is the answer to both," Harry said, then paused as Hermione's face fell. "I'll tell you more in the common room."

Hermione perked up. "Good." Then she grabbed his arm and began to drag him upstairs. Harry just went with it, and gave Ron a look that said, 'Girls. Go figure.'

Ron replied, mouthing, 'I know, she's mental.'

His face darkened slightly, doubtless remembering the disappearance of Scabbers, which had led to a furious argument over Crookshanks' eating habits, until Loki had tested the blood and found it was partly human and mostly conjured, leading him to suspect a prank. While Ron and Hermione had quickly made up, they were still a little annoyed at each other. Harry, having consulted a little with Loki and Pepper, had decided to let them deal with it themselves. Tony's suggestions had, naturally, been ridiculous and obscene and had caused Thor and Pepper to give him a shared Look.

As Harry would explain once he got to the common room, asked the House Elves for a drink of water, which he got with much bowing and scraping and a few explanations to Ron and Hermione as to why they seemed to actively worship him now, the weekend had been action packed, and, as mentioned before, occasionally life threatening. Not least because they had been attacked by robots in Central Park.

* * *

"Well," Tony said as the large, sleek, powerful looking machines landed around them. "I can't say that this is new." He glanced at them. "They look like Doom's work."

"Wonderful," Loki said dourly. Doom had a knack for designing deadly machines that were made all the deadlier by the fact they generally absorbed direct magical attack. They also tended to jam teleportation.

"Everyone, form around Harry, Pepper, Jane and Tony," Steve said. This measure was to protect Harry, Jane and Pepper and let them activate their personal forcefield generators – Tony's paranoia being once again justified - and give Tony time to summon his armour.

The battle went much as many Avengers battles do – hefty amounts of smiting, smashing and swearing were performed by all, with Harry watching wide eyed as his father body slammed one robot, used a gale force wind to knock a whole bunch into the air, then watched as Tony and Clint picked them off, then Hulk smashed the rest. Loki was largely reduced to creating unexpected crevasses, then filling them with summoned lava from who knew where, and idly watching as the robots flailed and melted, idly judo throwing one robot into the pool when it tried to push him in. Just because he couldn't use magic directly didn't mean that he couldn't kick ass.

Then, things changed.

Thor watched in horror as one of the robots identified the specific frequency of Harry's shield, neutralised it, then opened fire on his son. Thor began to run, as fast he could, hoping hope against hope that he could get there in time, even if he knew at heart that he couldn't. But another beat him to it. With a roar, the Hulk put himself between Harry and the robots laser cannons, taking the blasts unflinchingly.

"NO HURT LITTLE GOD!" the Hulk roared, turning and shattering the robot with a single, vast backhand. He was cradling a surprised, but only slightly scared looking Harry with his left hand. Thor supposed that Harry was quite used to giant protectors from Hagrid, as he watched the green giant quite literally single-handedly destroy the remains of the robot invasion force.

Shaking himself, he applied himself to the robots with vigour, shattering them with Mjolnir. No one, repeat, _no one, _threatened his son. A point he made loudly and emphatically by hitting one robot so hard that its head landed in front of a very surprised young teenage boy called Peter Parker. While I would like to say it sparked a lifelong interest in science, it did not, since he was already a major science geek. But it did give him something to talk about with his friend-who-he-was-steadily-getting-a-crush-on Gwen Stacy. And that is another story.

When the battle was over, Thor, full of relief, drew his wand and set about repairing the surroundings, with Loki's help. The Hulk stomped over and very gently put Harry down. Harry hadn't even taken a scratch. "Little god safe now," he grunted.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I am. Thanks, Hulk." Then he did what Thor thought no one else had ever done, with the possible exception of Betty Ross. He hugged the Hulk.

The Hulk looked surprised, then smiled – genuinely smiled - and very carefully hugged him back.

"Don't mind me," Tony muttered, wiping his eyes. "A bug flew into my eye."

"You're crying from both eyes," Natasha observed.

"Okay, so it was one very persistent bug," Tony said, as Harry released the Hulk, still smiling. The Hulk gently patted his head, then began to shrink back into Bruce, who gratefully accepted Loki's conjured clothes.

Thor went over to Bruce and said, "Bruce, if you could inform friend Hulk that I am very grateful for what he has done, I would consider it a favour."

Bruce's eyes flashed green briefly. "He knows. He says, '_Hulk strongest there is. Still stronger than Hammer God_'."

Thor rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. "For once, just once, I shall concede the contest of strength to Hulk," he said.

Bruce smirked and said nothing.

* * *

"Whoa…" Ron breathed. "That is so cool."

"Cool? Harry, you could have been killed!" Hermione cried. "Are you sure that you're… well, _safe_ there?"

"Yes. Hulk and Dad were looking after me, and I almost feel sorry for anything that annoys them," Harry said, grinning. "After all, it'll be all 'HULK SMASH!' and 'I SAY THEE NAY!' and then it's all over. Besides, how many times has someone tried to kill me here?"

"… Good point," Hermione conceded. "What else did you do?"

Harry took a sip of water, then began to talk again, talking long into the night, until Percy came and chivvied the three of them upstairs.

* * *

Tony Stark is a mystery wrapped up in an enigma, sprinkled lightly with paranoiac secretiveness. But one thing he is undoubtedly, is protective. Mainly of the woman he proclaimed in one anguish ridden moment was 'the one thing I can't live without'.

For a man who had had all the material comforts one could want or imagine, many you couldn't imagine and invented a whole encyclopaedias worth of new ones, then had lost them all for three agonising months in an Afghan desert, who had come so close to death in so many strange and exciting ways, this was quite something to state without any hyperbole. Again, a remarkable thing in such a melodramatic man.

But secondarily, he is protective of people he holds dear. Rhodey is one. The Avengers and the little fellowship they have is another.

Bruce is closest in of all of them, the 'science bros' instantly bonding, while Loki occupies a vaguely peripheral orbit, slowly being drawn closer and closer, but still somewhat outside, like an asteroid that is eventually going to be drawn in entirely, but, for now, charts its own course.

Following Bruce is Clint, oddly enough. The two have a similarly snarky sense of humour and unlike Thor and Steve, Clint is technologically adept, he has never tried to trick or use Tony and he doesn't periodically blow up the microwave. That said, Tony does find Thor's (because it usually is Thor) surprised expression as his face coated in soot and (usually) exploded Pop Tart utterly hilarious – as well as having a sneaky streak that appeals to Tony. Though, now Thor is rediscovering James' sneaky streak and wicked sense of humour, he is likely to occupy a closer orbit in future.

Steve is next. He is an odd one. He and Tony bicker at times, argue furiously at others, but are mostly content in each other's differences, finding things to admire in the other that they do not themselves possess. Loki once observed that they are like he and Thor these days – they may argue, they may disagree, but each needs the other to provide balance, together they are greater than the sum of their parts and each will defend his brother to death and beyond. Tony, deep down, thinks he's right.

After Steve is Thor. Tony finds many qualities in Thor that he admires – secretly – like he does Steve. The two are after all, fundamentally, very similar people. While Thor's boisterous honour and somewhat Shakespearean and formal turns of speech distance him and set him at a counter to Tony, Tony likes him. He appreciates Thor's sharp insight and his tactical expertise, which is such that even Steve likes to get his opinion, and when they are facing something from the darker side of mythology, he often listens to Thor on the relevant battle tactics since he's probably killed it at least twenty times before and Loki on the details of the beast or being in question, since he probably knows everything there is and isn't to know about it.

Natasha comes after that. Tony is slow to trust, and once someone has abused his trust, he tends to have difficulty trusting them again. That said, bonds forged in fire and blood are strong, and in battle, he trusts her implicitly. Out of it, he has come to trust her, but it is slow going. He knows very well how dangerous she is, and he respects that, in his own irreverent fashion.

One thing that Natasha likes about Tony is that for all his biting sarcasm, he has stopped his wandering eyes. He appreciates a woman as much as the next man, as he will happily tell you at length, but he is Pepper's man now, and happy that way – and he always treats her with his own irreverent brand of respect, never condescending to her about her abilities, or assuming he knows more than her in her areas of expertise.

Then there is Loki. Loki, Tony's kindred spirit, his dark reflection, and in some respects, his partner in pranking crime. The two get on well, genius and caustic wit calling out to one another. Human science intrigues Loki, who actually has a very good grasp on it – something largely down to the fact that he already knew most of the basics, he just needed to learn a new vocabulary and the rest. Which he did. At an incredible rate. When quizzed on it, he would explain that Asgardians of the Royal Family actually had a near eidetic memory, particularly when they chose to apply themselves. The rest of the species had it to a lesser extent, much like their strength.

The combat arts came naturally as a result, meaning that the average eighteen year old Asgardian might know twenty martial arts when a mortal eighteen year old who had devoted their life to the study might have picked up ten. Unfortunately, this did not always translate to technological skill, as remembering how to do something does not equate to understanding it or the principles behind it. That said, Tony had a sneaking suspicion that Thor did, in fact, actually have a much greater grasp of human technology than he pretended.

Tony was one of the few humans that Loki admitted was mentally a match for him, or thereabouts, and grudging acknowledgement Tony's inventive genius had quickly grown into full blown admiration. Not that he would ever say it. Bruce is another, and Jane is close to a third. In her own field, she impresses even Tony, but she does not have the same breadth the other two do, nor the same intuitive grasp for what seem to be the fundamental building blocks of the universe, which even Loki doesn't match - except in his own way, through magic, which isn't quite the same. Tony is convinced that if he and Bruce were Quantum Physicists, they'd have figured out how to rewrite reality by the time they were thirty, at the outside. Loki agrees and is privately glad that they aren't. Tony Stark's vision of the universe, even tempered by Bruce, would be by turns hilarious and horrific.

Jane, Darcy and Erik don't quite occupy a place yet. They don't really know each other as well, but Tony does care for them, if only in connection with Thor and his own respect for Jane and Erik's considerable intellects and Darcy's rapier wit and ability to drink men twice her size – i.e. Erik - under the table without slurring a word. They once had a drinking contest. Tony won, but only through dint of superior experience, and not by as much as he might have liked.

What matters, however, is that Tony will move heaven and earth to protect the people he cares about. And if he can't invent a machine to do it, or think of a clever way around it, he'll do it by hand, grit, determination and pure bloody mindedness and never consider stopping until it is done.

Harry would, in one future as a King of Asgard with epithets such as the Brave and the Just being attached, with his wise, beautiful, brilliant (all epithets used to describe her, not least by her husband) golden haired wife by his side and many thousands of years of experience as a ruler under his belt, that the most remarkable man he ever knew was Anthony Edward Stark.

And what Tony was pondering right now was how to protect Harry. Pepper he had contingencies for – he was designing armours for her, for one, and JARVIS had an emergency protocol to do anything necessary to protect Pepper if the Avengers and any other help that might come was neutralised. Rhodey could more than look after himself, something that went for the rest of the Avengers. Darcy was also capable of looking after herself, Clint and Natasha having taught her more efficient use of her taser and a few more asskicking techniques. Erik was actually a skilled brawler, something developed through a misspent youth spent in bars and bar brawls, and also one with enough experience of fights to know when to cut and run, so Tony wasn't too worried about him.

Jane had Thor, who would utterly obliterate anything that even _thought_ of touching her, while Loki would horribly maim whatever was left. She too had taken a few tips from Clint and Natasha, and on one memorable occasion, had put Thor down hard in a sparring match. Admittedly, she had immediately worried if he was okay, which Tony thought was a bit odd since he'd seen Thor be hit in the face with a collapsing building and come out of it only mildly annoyed and dusty. Hearty, proud laughter had been Thor's response and he had praised her efficient takedown.

That left Harry. While he too had Thor, who Tony got the impression would chew his own legs off and beat whatever oncoming force to death with them before he let Harry be harmed, and Loki, who was similarly inclined, except that he was more likely to make the oncoming force chew their _own_ legs off and beat _themselves_ to death with them. Loki was many things. Three of those things were: vengeful, flamboyant and economically ruthless.

Three others were kind, witty and – surprisingly enough – gentle, when he felt the need. Such as with his nephew, who he clearly adored. They had the same hair and eyes – well, not quite the same. The green of their eyes had a couple of shades difference, and Loki's hair was relatively neat compared to Harry's unruly thatch and tended more towards curls – and similar bearings: both seemed to constantly expect an attack, though in Harry that had faded completely as soon as he had found that he was among people he could trust. With Loki, it never faded. Not quite. Except once. With Sif, on one of her, Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun's visits to Avengers Tower.

Pepper had picked up on it and pointed it out to Tony with a stern injunction not to tease and that they could just be friends. Tony personally doubted it. Going by his own experience, with Pepper being the single person he relaxed totally around, he thought the two were into each other. They argued, they flirted – not that the others noticed, thinking it was just banter, but Tony knew better – and seemed entirely comfortable in each other's company. He had valiantly resisted teasing until after Sif had left – largely because he wasn't sure if she might skewer him for it, and he was no longer _that _self-destructive. Loki had just given him an odd look, as if it had never occurred to him and said he saw Sif as a friend and had for a long time. Thor had given him a tolerant look but said nothing, which only affirmed Tony's suspicions. Even Thor pre-James Potter would not miss a millennia old crush.

But again, back to Harry. Harry, young, magical, certainly of above average intelligence, and with a quick mind for practical things – for instance, he had given Tony a puzzled look when he'd tried to explain a car engine to him, but taken to it quickly enough when Tony opened up the hood of one of his old cars in the basement and helped him experiment and learn by experience. In that respect, he was very much his father's son, who learnt better by doing and seeing than by reading.

His magic afforded him some defences, but they were limited, and if he lost that wand, he was as vulnerable as the next untrained kid. Armour, maybe? He'd read the SHIELD files on the 'Death Eaters'. Cheesy name, but dangerous group. Even Tony Stark does not take fanatical reality warping terrorists with a fondness for mind control, torture and outright, untraceable-save-by-eliminating-all-other-possibil ities murder that they could enact with but a couple of words at most.

Oh, and teleportation. Loki assured him that anyone who tried apparating into the Tower would be 'splinched' – then provided a colourful explanation, complete with images, that made Tony feel physically ill – muttered rudely about its inefficiency, sloppiness and corruption of his original technique, and that in terms of magical power, comparing them to him was like comparing a Mini (Loki liked cars) or a Bugatti Veyron to Tony's most wild imaginings of future iterations of the Iron Man armour. One might be, relatively, far stronger than others, but he was so far beyond both as to be ridiculous. While Loki tended towards arrogance and hyperbole as much as Tony, this one time he might not be joking.

Again, he finds himself sidetracked. Combat training? That might help. The kid has excellent hand eye coordination, is brave, holds up well under pressure, moves fast and has reflexes that make a snake on a hot tin roof look sluggish. Not only that, but he had a lot of wiry muscle, gained from wrenching a twig through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour since he was eleven years old. Teach him a few nerve strikes and he'll be making Spock look like an amateur in a matter of months. It would prove a suitable addition to him flying a Quinjet. Tony had run through the data himself. The kid was a natural pilot. He may not be much for technical details and book learning, but when it came to thinking on his feet, acting on instinct, and applying practical knowledge, he was good. Very good. Again, his father's son. He also has a dry wit, probably picked up as a defence mechanism somewhere along the way. Tony can relate. And he honestly likes the kid.

He can see better than anyone the juxtaposition of smart, funny, surprisingly mature young man who knows what it is like to face death head on, to look into its face and say, 'not today', and vulnerable little boy, all wide green eyes, wonder, messy hair and – formerly - parentless, desperately looking for loving figures in his life, to hold him through the dark times, to care for him and assure him that they don't care how fucked up he is, what his past holds, what expectations his name, reputation and abilities bring, but who love him deeply and unconditionally despite it all. Yes. Tony can definitely relate.

But unlike Harry, who is a guilelessly open book around people he likes and trusts, only two people in the whole world have got a good look at the vulnerable side of Tony Stark, Pepper and Rhodey. Loki and Natasha both know a bit about it, for different reasons – it's partly why Tony still harbours a little bit of resentment and mistrust towards Natasha, because she saw him when he was vulnerable, when his carefully constructed and maintained emotional armour was chipped and falling around his ankles.

Loki he trusts with it, to an extent, because he has seen Loki's raw and vulnerable side too, and knows that his shadow also strives to hide his vulnerability behind wit and charm. It is this shared vulnerability that helps he and Loki get on, and it is what allows him to relate to Harry and feel a desire to take him under his wing, in a roguish, disreputable but genuinely caring sort of way. And, ultimately, to protect him. He wouldn't move heaven and earth to protect him any more than he would any other kid. Yet. That will change, he reckons. But _how_ to protect him… clearly portable forcefields didn't work, and Hulk and Thor couldn't be everywhere…

Tony sat back and drummed his fingers on the armrest of the his seat. He'd have to think about this more, and talk to the others. He paused as he thought that last part, and quirked his lips into a wry smile. Once upon a time, he'd never have considered consulting another on anything. Then had come Afghanistan. His smile faded and his hand drifted up under his shirt, as it often did, to his arc reactor.

It was a strange feeling, to reach up under all coverings and where there should be skin and bone, there is metal and fibreglass. It is a constant reminder that Tony Stark is apart from the rest of humanity, in form as well as function. And if it wasn't for Pepper, the others for whom he would move heaven and earth, and those who he just plain liked and cared about, it would be very lonely indeed.

**And the end of another chapter, with a bit of long await action. I know, I skated over it a little bit, but the latter two thirds of this fic are going to be pretty action packed. And I love exploring Tony's character, so sue me. **

**My schedule is still crazy, I'm working most hours of the day, my internet is restricted to borrowing the wifi at the local pub and honestly I'm surprised I managed to put out this chapter. But I did. Go me. A reward would be much appreciated for my labours. And that is me trying to be subtle in my review begging.**


	10. Chapter 10: A Day In The Life

**Okay, my exams are over and now I can direct a lot of time to writing. Feel free to start celebrating. That said, this'll probably be must last update for a couple of weeks, as I'll be without my computer from the 15****th**** to the 29****th**** of June. And ooh, Chapter 10 at last. **

**This chapter is… well, I suppose it turned into a sort of 'day in the life of' chapter, minus the recorded times. **

**It features a little more action to go with the character development. I know, there's been a lot of character development, but bear in mind that this fic is part of a series going to the length of at least five epic fantasy length novels, and the fic itself may yet be divided in two. I'm setting up a major world here.**

**I'd also like to dedicate this chapter to my solitary reader in Iran, discovered by way of the Story Stats page on my account. Whether expat or native Iranian, I can't imagine that surfing the internet is the world's safest thing for you to do, and I am deeply honoured you would spend a little of your time on the net reading this fanfiction. Thank you. Thank you so much.**

**And seriously, I love all of you guys, every one of you from the thousands in the US to the single, solitary readers in the Vatican City and Iran. Thank you. You honour more than I deserve. Oh, and reviews make me smile, each and every one of them. This is unbetaed, so all constructive criticism is welcome.**

Life in the Tower continued apace. Tony declared that Harry's room would be Iron Man themed, while Thor testily pointed out that Harry was his son, Steve weighed in on Thor's side, Bruce tried to avoid being roped in by Tony and Loki gleefully fanned the flames of the argument, with comments like, "But Brother, Harry does _like _red and gold," and, "Stark, my nephew has his father's taste."

Eventually Pepper stamped on them all, and, giving Loki and Tony warning looks, said that if anyone was deciding what colour his room was, it was Harry and that was the end of it. She then suggested video calling Harry. This was a mistake.

"So, Harry, what colour do you want your room?" Tony said.

"Um… I don't mind?" Harry said. This was the wrong answer.

Thor kicked Tony's wheeled chair off screen and said cheerfully, "Gold is good."

"Red and gold maybe?" Harry suggested.

Thor's expression soured and there was a loud, "HAH!" from off screen.

"Or not?"

"Or not," Loki said, idly floating into frame. It had been a matter of great surprise to everyone that Loki could fly with his magic. He preferred using transportation or teleportation, but if push came to shove, he could fly and he was good at it. "Green and gold seems like a good idea," he said, smirking at his brother.

"Silver and red would be… acceptable," Thor said.

"What's wrong with red and gold?"

"You're my son, not Tony's," Thor said, before glaring off screen. "Do you hear that Stark? He's _mine!_ My own. My… _precious_._"_

Harry by now looked bewildered and a bit disturbed. Natasha dropped in. "I know. They're crazy."

"How about a SHIELD logo and black and silver?" Clint called from who knew where.

"Clint!" Thor yelled. "Stop corrupting my son."

"How is that corrupting?" Loki asked, mildly interested.

Natasha shrugged. "Dads. Go figure."

"Our father doesn't care what our rooms look like as long as any smells and interdimensional portals are kept within the room and we don't keep things that might eat the servants," Loki said idly, as Thor stalked off to yell at Tony and Clint. Bruce and Jane came to the camera and gave Harry a small wave each. Harry responded in kind.

"The other guy says to 'say hi to Little God'," Bruce said.

"Tell him hi back," Harry said, smiling.

Darcy joined them and said, "Yo, Harry, how's magic school going?"

"Not bad, thanks. Should I just let dad and the others fight it out. Because as long as it's not pink, orange, canary yellow, or green and silver, I don't really care what it looks like," Harry said.

"Or you could compromise," Pepper said, as a loud crash heralded who knew what.

Tony's cry of, "ATTACK, MY ROBOTIC MINIONS! ATTACK THE HEATHEN WHO DARES SAY THAT RED AND GOLD ARE NOT THE SUPERIOR COLOUR COMBINATION!" did not help matters.

Pepper sighed, and leaned out of frame, giving Harry a fine view of her ass in a tight pencil skirt. Harry liked her platonically, but, again, teenage boy. He blushed horribly. Jane followed his gaze and also blushed. Clint and Darcy smirked, while Natasha rolled her eyes slightly.

"Where's Steve?" Harry asked.

"NO, DON'T ATTACK STEVE! Or on second thoughts... ATTACK HIM! WITHOUT MERCY! HE DESTROYED MY DVD PLAYER LAST WEEK! NO TECHNOLOGY IS SAFE!"

"ARGH! TONY, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS THAT FRAGILE! GET YOUR ROBOTS AWAY FROM ME!"

Tony's cackling echoed through the building.

"NEVER FEAR, STEVE, THOR IS HERE TO LIBERATE YOU FROM THESE MECHANICAL – ARGH! WHAT IS THIS STUFF! IT BLINDS ME!"

"Dummy used the fire extinguisher on him," Pepper said with a sigh. "Harry, seriously, you need to choose or your dad and Tony will destroy the Tower."

"Thus rendering the question moot," Loki observed.

"Yes, but that isn't very helpful. Even Tony Stark's insurance doesn't cover grand acts of idiocy," Pepper sighed.

"You should get that looked at," Natasha said.

"Maybe," Pepper said, sighing.

"How about… Red and Gold with lightning bolts?" Darcy suggested.

"I like that," Harry said.

"TONY! THOR! WE'VE GOT A COMPROMISE!" Darcy yelled.

"WHAT?!" both yelled back.

"Red and gold – "

"HAH!"

"NO!"

"With lightning bolts!"

"NO!"

"HAH!"

"Is that it?" Harry asked. "I'll be seeing you guys soon, right?"

"On Yuletide," Loki confirmed. "Christmas," he clarified. "And you'll be seeing me for lessons before then."

Harry nodded and smiled. "See you guys soon."

They waved him off. "Bye!"

After Pepper calmed Tony down, and Thor realised how childish he was being and freed Steve from the grasp of Tony's robots, everything settled down. Tony called out for decorators, Pepper watching him like a hawk all the while. Darcy and Clint snickered about Harry checking out Peppers ass, until Jane rolled her eyes and said, "He's a teenage boy. Objectively, I can tell you that Pepper is gorgeous and wearing a very tight skirt. What do you expect him to do?"

Meanwhile, Thor went to find Loki, who had returned to his divining and scrying spells, which were set up haphazardly around his room. Scrying bowls and mystical candles occupied his shelves, runic circles were painted on pieces of wooden board, runesticks occupied his bedside table, usurping 'Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy'. Loki enjoyed mystery fiction and spy fiction, as the intricacies of intrigue appealed to his trickster's brain. Magic books from both Asgard and Earth were half open on the floor, so Thor trod carefully as he walked in.

"How goes the search for Sirius, brother?" Thor asked.

Loki ran a hand through his hair, looking up from where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed with one of the scrying bowls in his lap. "Not well," he admitted. "Any artefacts you have are too out of date. He hasn't used his wand in a good twelve years, so even that connection is easily masked. I asked Heimdall, but he says that Sirius is masked from his sight. How, I am not sure, but I suspect his nature as an animagus comes into it. Heimdall has always had difficulty tracking shapeshifters."

"Maybe his clothes from Azkaban?" Thor asked.

"No," Loki replied. "He has no real emotional attachment to them. I am scanning for his magic, but even with his wand, that could take a good week or so more."

"Okay. Keep doing the best you can, brother," Thor said, gently squeezing his shoulder. "And thank you."

"Not a problem. Thank me when I've found him," Loki said, going back to his bowl.

* * *

The trio were eating lunch and doing their best to ignore the stares that Harry was getting. The conversation had mostly comprised what had happened in New York and how Tony and Darcy were two of the coolest people in the history of ever, when Hermione raised an interesting point.

"Harry, one thing I've noticed these last few days is that you're taking being the son of a genuine god very well," Hermione observed. "Why is that? Shouldn't you be a little more… confused?"

Harry gave this some thought. "Yeah, I suppose I should be," he said slowly. "It's just… I only see dad as, well, _dad_. It's like some really, really old memories are telling me that he's my father and that everything's going to be all right if he's around."

Hermione nodded slowly. "But he doesn't look like he did back then."

"He can shift between the two," Harry reminded her. "And he generally looks like he did back then when he's around me."

"So… there's sort of a disconnect," Hermione said. "You still don't unconsciously associate your father with being Thor."

"A bit," Harry said. "It's complicated.

"But that what about Loki?" Ron asked.

"I haven't really seen him in full God of Magic mode," Harry said. "And I think my weird-shit-o-meter is busy dealing with me being royalty and not just human. The god part is sort of… in waiting. I can be confused about it…"

"Once you get over everything else," Hermione said, nodding.

"Right. And right now… I have a family. And I'm just happy to accept that."

Ron spoke up. "How do you feel about Odin knowing that you were with the Dursleys?" he asked, curious.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

Harry's eyes flashed. "Not happy," he ground out, mood and tone darkening dramatically. He took a deep breath, and calmed slightly. "Loki says that Odin doesn't look at the world the same way as we do, because the closest to human he gets is looking like one," Harry said. "He's also thousands of years old and where we see as ten years being close to forever he sees it as… well, a pit stop." He frowned. "I'm still pissed off, though. And I'll be having _words_ with him about it."

Hermione squeaked and Ron paled as both imagined Harry chewing out the Allfather. "Harry," Hermione said. "I know you're not quite coming to terms with the fact you're related to _gods_, but…"

"But?"

"The Allfather is ridiculously powerful, Harry. He's the closest thing there is to omnipotent. I've researched him and all the books agree – the Allfather can create planets, destroy stars, even bring back the dead under the right circumstances, and that's just the beginning. He's from myth and legend, Harry, and he's a great warrior," Hermione said, voice low. "And he is a king, even he is family. King's and warriors don't like being disrespected in public…" she took a deep breath. "So if you have to shout at him, do it in private."

Harry gave her a petulant look that said, almost word for word, 'I do what I want, Hermione!'

If anyone had any trouble believing he was, at heart, an ordinary teenager, that expression confirmed it.

"She's right, mate. Yelling at him isn't a good idea, even if you think he deserves it," Ron said.

Harry nodded. "Fine," he grumbled slightly. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a Stark Phone. Tony had insisted on giving him one.

"Harry, that's not going to… work?"

Harry smirked at Hermione's poleaxed expression. "Tony figured out how to shield from magical interference," he said casually. "And, it doubles as a computer. Look."

He laid it flat on the table and tapped the screen twice. Instantly, holographic screens the size of a pc monitor sprang up. This drew some stares, but not many. Students often practiced magic at the table, so this, while not magic, was hardly out of the ordinary. "I can send messages, surf the net and watch videos," he said.

"Can you play chess?" Ron asked, curious.

"Yeah, but not wizard's chess. Speaking of, you should introduce Tony to Wizard's chess, he'd love it. We can play wizard's chess later, if you want," Harry said. Ron nodded, and Harry smiled, bringing up a video of Loki debating with a member of some tiny American church that thought everyone but them was evil. He was about to move on, then paused.

"_I am not a false god leading the people to hell, madam," _the image of Loki said._ "I am of Asgard. Physically, I am beyond you. Mentally, I am beyond all but your very greatest minds. I perceive things on a level you cannot even begin to comprehend. I can make the world warp to my will. Your life and death is in my hands. How else would you define a god? You say that your god hates all of humanity. I would reply that if you consider a being like that worthy of worship, you should have been worshipping me when I tried to rule Earth, for I was very definitely that kind of god. A wrathful, vengeful, hateful god who was cruel, petty, and slaughtered any who dared disagree. And I can tell you that I would not have given you heaven because you worshipped me and followed my commands. No, such a god would laugh at your weakness, your grovelling cowardice, your hatred for all that is not like you, and seen how small and pathetic you really are. Such a god would get your hopes of a heaven up high, then laugh as he crushed them, torturing you, hurting you, treating you as the most base slaves just to see the shock and horror on your faces. Such a god, madam, is not worthy of worship. Such a god is insane. Such a god has no love in their heart. Such a god, madam, is a monster. Take it from one who knows. Take it from one who was, one who learned that he was not truly superior to those he sought to rule. One who relearned the virtue of Love."_

Hermione blinked. "I remember watching that," she said. "And thinking…"

Harry glanced at her and made a prompting sound.

"Thinking that if someone that old, that clever and that powerful could change their views and admit they were wrong, pureblood supremacists like Malfoy could too," Hermione said. She frowned. "And Malfoy is, actually, improving."

"We noticed," Harry and Ron said in stereo.

"What's that?" Neville asked curiously. Harry blinked. Half the school was looking.

"A mobile phone made by Tony Stark."

Neville looked puzzled. "Um, Pureblood, remember?" he said.

"A mobile phone is a muggle communications device. With it, you can contact anyone with a mobile of their own by typing in a number," Hermione said. "It's like a floo call, but you can do it from pretty much anywhere."

"Cool," Seamus said, voice low. "What else does it do?"

Harry was about to start explaining when Snape walked up. "Mister Potter, I know your instinct is to show off your new toys, but please refrain from doing so before I am forced to confiscate them," he said coldly.

Harry sighed and shut the phone off. "Yes, Professor," he said, pocketing it. Snape, satisfied, moved off. "I'll show you guys later," he said.

"How did you get muggle technology to work in Hogwarts?" Dean asked.

"Tony's a genius," Harry said, shrugging. "It took him fifteen minutes to figure out how to block out the effects of magic on the phone."

"Fifteen minutes?" Hermione asked, shocked. "People have been trying for years!"

"Well, they weren't Tony Stark," Harry said. "Most were students, whereas we're talking about a guy who built a miniaturised arc reactor from scraps in a cave in less than a week."

"What's an arc reactor?"

"A energy producing muggle machine," Hermione said. "The miniaturised version is like the muggle answer to the twelve uses of dragons blood or the invention of the floo network."

"Whoa," Dean said slowly, sentiments echoed by the rest. "Yeah, that's about right," he said, glancing at the rest. "Tony Stark's pretty much the smartest man on the planet, like Professor Dumbledore or Nicholas Flamel clever. He invented the Iron Man armour all by himself."

"Not quite all by himself," Harry said quietly. "The design was all his, but he had help building the first one. A doctor called Ho Yinsen, who was imprisoned with him helped him build it, then gave his life holding off the terrorists while the suit powered up." He looked around. "I saw pictures of him. He was short, thin, clever and he looked… kind. Very kind. And he gave his life without hesitation for one man he believed could not just be a great man, but a good one too."

There was a solemn silence as the Gryffindors contemplated this act of valour.

"It sounds like he would have a Gryffindor," Percy said.

"To Ho Yinsen," Fred said, raising a goblet.

"Honorary Gryffindor," George said.

Those listening repeated the toast and drank.

"Being brave isn't all its cracked up to be, sometimes, is it?" Neville said. Everyone turned to look at him and he blushed. "Well, think about it. How many legends are about people dying gloriously? How much of history is about people dying bravely? I can be brave but… I don't want to die. The idea scares me."

"I know exactly what you mean, Neville," Harry said, cutting off Percy who was about to say something that was probably tactless but well meant. "But sometimes, because we believe in something better, we have to overcome our fear, and risk death. If there's nothing worth dying for… what is there to live for?"

"Well said."

All the students turned to see Professor Dumbledore twinkling down at them. Eyes widened.

"Everything worth doing has a price. Sometimes that is life," Dumbledore said. "Though I sincerely hope that none of you face such choices for many years, if at all." He smiled. "It is nice to see Muggles being toasted and ranked alongside wizards. Very nice indeed. Twenty five points to Gryffindor, I think, ten for Mister Potter's statement on the nature of sacrifice and another ten for Mister Longbottom for being brave enough to ask such a question in the House of the Brave. Enjoy your lunch."

With that, he walked off, his stride long and sure for a man as old as he. Hermione turned to Harry in amazement. "You got us points!"

"Always the tone of surprise."

* * *

Meanwhile, Thor and Loki were training in the SHIELD gym, the matter of the room decoration having been resolved. Tony was planning to build a hard light projecting training room, nicknamed 'Project Danger Room', but that project was mostly on the backburner. For now, SHIELD had training devices specifically designed for superhumans, largely using Thor's strength and Loki's magic as durability benchmarks, so for now, the two gods generally trained there, and when they trained in earnest, generally trained against each other, so they had no fear of killing their training partner if they did not hold back very, very carefully.

Naturally, the sight of the two training, first hand to hand, then moving to weapons. Powers were not used in the confines of the city. Instead, Loki would teleport the two to the South California deserts or the Rocky mountains, or to the wide grassy plains of Europe, Asia and South America. Thor used Mjolnir, Loki used either an adamantium stave or glaive that reminded some unsettlingly of the Chitauri sceptre. That particular weapon was currently in Odin's treasure rooms under some very heavy dampening enchantments, because Loki, Thor, Fury and Odin had one unspoken fear – the one who gave Loki his weapon, his armies, and his goal, would use it to control him. Thanos the Mad Titan was not to be underestimated, even at when he was almost a universe away.

The bout started lightly, the two brothers circling each other. These bouts had a pattern, and while Thor's rediscovered memories caused it to shift slightly, the shift was minor. As it was, Thor merely took a little longer to lose patience and lunge at Loki, who neatly sent him flying past, towards the metal supports of the ring. But Thor, instead of blundering into the pole, twisted, pushed off the pole with his right foot and sent himself spinning into the elastic ropes, and then shot at Loki like a dart, tackling him.

In response, Loki dropped and rolled, kicking his brother off, and closing with a series of feints and lightning fast strikes, moving like a dancer. Thor slowly backed away, blocking as best he could, then suddenly feinted a low blow to the stomach, which Loki leaned away to avoid, then caught him plum across the jaw with a powerful right cross that had Loki spitting blood and chuckling.

"Nice shot, brother. But you must know I won't fall for the same trick twice."

"I would say the same to you," Thor said equably, closing and delivering a couple of hammer blows to the chest, followed by a powerful headbutt that sent Loki staggering and apparently had him doubled over in pain, clutching his ribs. Thor frowned. Had he struck his brother too hard? Had their fight with the Doombots left his brother weaker than normal. He went up to his brother – carefully, because Loki was still the Trickster. "Brother? Are you well?"

"No."

"What is it?"

"Feel."

He laid a hand on Loki's ribs. They felt fine. He frowned in puzzlement, then his face cleared as his brother began to grin.

"_Damn."_

"Indeed."

Then, moving in a blur, Loki grabbed Thor by the shoulders and slammed his knee into his brother's balls. Loki suddenly frowned. Thor smirked and hit him with an uppercut that sent him flying. "I have taken to wearing a box, brother, as this is not the first, or even five hundredth time, you have pulled that trick on me."

"He can be taught!" Clint crowed from the audience.

"Which is more than can be said for you, Clint," Thor retorted. "Was last week not the fifth time that Stark panicked on detecting a foreign presence in his air vents and had you flushed out? Right in front of that robot that seems to think everyone is on fire and must be covered in fire extinguishing foam?"

Clint scowled. "I _know_ that he knew it was me this time," he growled. "He just did it because he thought it was hilarious."

"Well, it was," Thor began, before there was a loud _thunk_, and he went down like a felled tree, causing the ring to shudder. Loki emerged from behind him, smirking, adamantium stave in his hands.

"Yippee kee yay, motherfucker," he drawled.

"Stark is infecting you with his 'popular culture'," Thor said, voice muffled by the floor. "This can mean nothing good. You'll be introducing Steve to Midgardian pornography next." He didn't mention that Lily had made him throw out his numerous and… well loved, shall we say, copies of Playwizard.

"No, Pepper caught Stark trying to introduce Steve to something called '4-Chan' yesterday, and has banned Steve from accessing the internet based on Tony's suggestions," Loki said. "You'd think he'd learn."

Thor stood, rubbing his head and smoothly dodging Loki's next swing, before turning to deliver a powerful blow to the calf muscle. "Steve is a good, moral, trusting man, and I am honoured to be his friend. Stark is a good, _im_moral man whose friend I am honoured to be and is totally untrustworthy if he thinks it will be funny. The two are a match made in Hel."

"But hilarious to watch," Loki retorted, using the stave to launch a double footed kick that sent Thor careering across the ring.

"Oh, undoubtedly," Thor replied. He summoned Mjolnir. "Now. What was the phrase? Oh yes. _Let's dance."_

The two clashed in earnest now, no longer talking, fiercely concentrating as they matched skill to skill and strength to strength. As they did, the ring expanded, and the footing became uneven, just to spice things up. When it was merely combat skill involved, Thor won six of every ten bouts. When both used the full scale of their powers, or as full as they could get without causing earthquakes and other natural disasters, Loki won the greater number, simply because his tactics could change in a heartbeat, and the nature of his powers was so broad.

This fight looked to be going Thor's way, and, indeed, after another half an hour, Thor pinned Loki. He didn't put Mjolnir on his chest. It was, to his eyes, an unfair reminder of the Bifrost, and it was a tactic that Thor generally used on villains who just wouldn't stay still. Thor was damned if he was going to treat his brother like a villain. And it was also too easy. Loki had no similar fight ending advantage, so why should he use his?

"I have won, brother," he said.

"This time," Loki said, with the implication that next time would be different.

"This time," Thor agreed, getting off him and standing up him, pulling Loki with him. He clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder as he stood straight. Applause spread around the gym. People didn't clap _quite_ as loudly when Loki won, but that was changing.

The two showered, changed, grabbed five burgers – Thor – and three – Loki - from the cafeteria, large helpings of chips and ketchup. Loki got salad. Thor maintained that he was allergic to green things, causing Loki to mutter "Small child in adult's body," and plot to get Jane to get him to eat something healthy later.

"Uncle, sorry to bother you, but how is the nobility of Asgard ranked?" Harry asked. Hermione had asked the question while he and Ron were playing chess, and Harry had been curious himself, so he went to the best source.

"It is no bother, Harry. We just came back from sparring, I and your father, so there is no problem."

"Are you sure you aren't tired?"

"No I am not, thank you for asking. I can go for weeks at a time without sleep… though I do not enjoy it," Loki said.

Harry nodded, relieved.

"As to your question, it can be a little complex, but the broad ranks are as follows. First is the King, your grandfather, and his Queen, your grandmother. Second is the Crown Prince, then his heir – you – then any other Princes, like me," Loki said. "Following them are the Sub Kings and Sub Queens, such as Hrimhari, Prince of the Wolf People, and Karnilla, Queen of Nornheim. They are autonomous – free to rule as they wish – within their lands, but ultimately answer to the throne. Next are the Jarls, who inherit land from their ancestors by right of blood or are conferred it by the King. The _Riksjarl_ is historically the King's right hand man, and is traditionally given to the very highest jarls, such as Lord Tyr, ruler of Vanaheim in the name of Odin, and the various 'marcher' lords, sometimes known as _Markgreifi,_ who rule the dangerous edges of Odin's kingdom. Of equivalent rank are the _embetsadel,_ advisors and high counsellors, such as the Chancellor and the Archmage of the School of Sorcery, who earn their place through scholarship, diplomacy and bureaucracy, and through attaining high . Also equivalent are the _brevadel_, mostly our very greatest warriors, those who are close to the throne and achieve fame by special acts of valour. Lady Sif, the Warriors Three, and Brunnhilde the Valkyrie are some examples."

Harry's head was spinning slightly. "Right…" he said slowly. "That isn't it, is it?"

Loki chuckled. "No. Never fear, I am constructing a chart."

Harry made a face.

"I know, more homework, I'm a horrible uncle. But you asked," Loki said, chuckling.

"I did," Harry said ruefully. "What else?"

"The Barons, formerly called the _Lensmand_, follow on," Loki said. "Then there are the _Húskarl_, elite infantry and often personal guards to the King and the Princes. The Royal Guard are the most senior infantry soldiers, closely followed by your father's, my and now yours too guard, the Princes Guard, who mostly act as a battalion unto themselves in the army."

"Okay," Harry said, feeling a little at sea in all of this. He suspected it would be easier to understand if he saw this chart of his uncle's.

"Following that are the Castellans and the Stewards, men below the higher nobility who would maybe rule a castle or two in the name of a Baron or even a Jarl," Loki said. "Chieftains are generally below them, though sometimes you get a particularly powerful chieftain who rules an unusually large amount of land. Finally, you have the Clerks and Thegns, freemen, raised either by possessing a reasonable amount of land or money or having gained rank in the local bureaucracy. Local sorcerers general hold a similar place in the ranking system. Finally, you have free men and indentured servants. Indentured servants are essentially working to pay off a debt. As such, they are not paid, or if they are, it is a minimal amount as they are working to pay the person they are working for. They are, however, given food, board and training in their job, meaning that they gain a home and a skill, and the employer gains a cheap worker."

"Are there female nobility?" Harry asked.

"Not as many, for Asgard is very much a warriors society, and it is rare that a woman advances so far under such circumstances. But yes, Lady Sif and Brunnhilde are two, and your grandmother, Frigga, a third, who have achieved high rank. Queen Karnilla rules Nornheim in the name of Odin, and the three Norns are highly respected. When they speak, even the Allfather does not dare go against them. If Thor and Jane marry, she will be Crown Princess." Loki noticed Harry's lips twist slightly. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with his father being with another woman. He understood it, and he honestly liked Jane, and she him, but still… "Other women rise to high rank," Loki continued. "Such as Amora the Enchantress." Loki's lips thinned. "I will tell you more of her later. Not as many as men, and I think that is "

"Are there… slaves?" Harry asked, trepidation in his tone.

Loki was silent. "Not anymore," he said eventually. "Odin outlawed the practice many years ago, and slaves are not allowed in Asgard. Any who tries to take slaves faces the full force of Royal Justice," he said. "I will not lie, Harry. Some men and women are very poor. But is it not the same on Earth? Not everyone can win."

"Yes, but I didn't win. I was born with this legacy," Harry said. "I didn't earn it. Why do I deserve it?"

"I think your suffering at the hands of the Dursleys, the loss of your parents for over a decade in one case and forever in the other, along with saving goodness knows how many lives more than entitles you to the comforts of noble rank, Harry," Loki said gently. "I once asked my father a similar question. He replied that we must make sure we deserve it by our actions. We must turn our strength and privilege to the advantage of those who have none. We our royalty, yes, but we serve our people. In wartime and peacetime, they are our first priority, as is their wellbeing. We have been given a gift, so we must use it wisely."

Harry nodded slowly. That made sense. "Didn't dad ask?"

"When your father was younger, he often took things at face value. He was rich, he was powerful, and he accepted that as his due. He could be horribly arrogant, but he was also immensely kind and generous. One lesson he learned well was the duty of a Prince to their subjects, and the duty of those with power to those who had none, and I have no doubt that even at his worst, Thor would not hesitate to put his life on the line to protect those in need," Loki said. "He did not question because it did not occur to him. He knew no different, so simply assumed that this was the way the world worked. It was not malice, simply ignorance. He knows better now."

Harry nodded. "I suppose."

"Fame and fortune weigh heavily on you," Loki said. "It is as I told you before. You must accept what you are. It may be hard, but it is necessary."

Harry nodded again. "Thanks, Uncle Loki."

"Any time. Go well, nephew. And remember to practice varying the power levels on those spells I taught you. Practice makes perfect," Loki said.

Harry grinned. "I will. See you later in the week!"

"I look forward to it," Loki said, smiling and signing off.

**Sorry, no Sirius this chapter. I wanted to put him in, but there is a **_**long **_**section with him next chapter that wouldn't have fitted in so well in this one. Something to look forward to, I think. Oh, and COS broke the 300,000 word barrier. Go me! Reviews are much appreciated.**


	11. Chapter 11: Winter is Coming

**A/N: Okay, so a couple of things to explain here. Sirius isn't appearing this chapter. Before you all head for the exits, there are reasons. And the main reason is that my old computer died, taking all my writing with it. Never fear, almost all of COS (as in, short only about ten thousand words) is backed up on my extended hard drive. Said extended hard drive is in the post and will be with me next week or the week after. For the same reason, I've cut back a bit on the writing because I'm leery of writing without my main manuscript as a point of reference, hence the lack of updating. Well, that and I spent two weeks or so without a computer.**

**Another reason is that the narrative is only really ready for him after this chapter. Or at least, that's the way I see it. But on the other hand, I think you'll enjoy this chapter. It features Lucius Malfoy in Magnificent Bastard mode, Albus and Steve reminiscing and some very surprising facts about Minerva McGonagall and Tony Stark. Oh, and the beta plot – basically, a plot that takes up Third Year and the summer after it while the main Voldemort plot builds – is partially revealed.**

It was a dark night, the beginning of a classic setting for dark deeds. While it was Winter, it was a still, chilly night, lacking the traditional howling wind, biting cold and skulking dark creatures.

The leafless trees were rimed with frost, an afternoon's light rain freezing in the cold temperatures. It was also the depths of rural Wiltshire, home of the well to do and a large amount of the British Army. A respectable area, which included a small and moderately wooded valley in which was situated a large, stately and eminently respectable home, occupied by a moderately sized stately and eminently respectable (at first sight) family. The lights inside were on and if you happened to be in the grounds, you might hear the sounds of chatter and drinks being had within.

All very nice and cosy. Until you found out what they were chatting about. The chances of you even getting past the deadly dangerous wards and the chimera and nundu on the property were low. The chances of being able to hear are even lower. The chances of surviving hearing are so low as to be nearly non-existent.

"So, Lucius, why have you invited us here for this fantastic elf made wine - '67 isn't it? - and why have you invited these... people?"

Avery asked, gesturing with his wine glass at the group around him.

Lucius Malfoy, Lord of Malfoy Manor, former Spymaster of the Dark Lord Voldemort, smiled. The group Avery had gestured to was a collection of his old contacts. Not quite complete, of course, only those he could be reasonably certain would agree with him in his planned course of action.

They were an unlikely collection of rogues - former Death Eaters sat side by side with werewolves, muggle terrorists, superhuman criminals and non-wanded practitioners of dark magic.

"'33," actually," he said mildly. "And I have called you here for a number of reasons. First, however, I would like to start with a question. What are we doing?"

His clever, intense grey eyes, so like his son's, swept around the room. "We former Death Eaters hide who we are. The Werewolf packs stick to uninhabited areas and avoid even muggles save at the Full Moon. Organisations such as HYDRA have been driven into the shadows and the history books. Practitioners of all sorts have been forced to hide who they are for fear of retribution."

He sat back. "But once, this was different. All of us who are connected to the magical world once thrived. HYDRA was once the terror of Europe, part of a mighty duumvirate with Grindelwald that nearly toppled the world order. Now? We skulk, we hide, and we hope we avoid the all seeing eye of Nicholas Fury and the wrath of his Avengers. SHIELD's power is undisputed. Albus Dumbledore, meanwhile, contaminates the minds of our young, and holds more power than a fool such as he deserves, being feted as the greatest wizard of his time when he does not deserve it, for that title belongs to another." He looked at the group, daring any of them to dispute this. None did. "One of the Avengers' great strengths is their ability to act in concert. Somehow, they work together as smoothly as a well-oiled machine and they achieve far more than they would alone. As we once did. And that is what I propose we do."

Nott snorted. "And I thought Bellatrix was the mad one."

Lucius cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You want us to band together, in a time of peace, when we have public respect and prosperity, to take on a group that commands more raw power than the world has ever seen, and has two members who despise each and every one of us. In case you've forgotten, Lucius, it was the Dark Lord who killed the mudblood wife of Thor. Who happens to be the God of Thunder, as well as retaining his considerable magical powers. James Potter was one of the strongest wizards of his generation, poor taste notwithstanding," Nott said bluntly. "From his encounter with Severus, it is clear that he bears us a considerable grudge. That said, he seems content to live and let live."

"Or he has decided that he can merely wait to murder us at his leisure," Lucius murmured. "Nott, we are talking about a being who can control the _weather_. All over the world. At will. He can kill us any time he wishes. And if I remember my histories correctly, the Norse Pantheon is very big on blood feuds. Why kill us immediately when he can wait and draw out our deaths?"

"That doesn't sound like James Potter, let alone Thor," Avery muttered.

"But it does sound like Loki," Von Strucker interjected. "And my informants tell me that Thor follows his brother's advice. _Very_ closely."

The implication that Thor would take a few pages from Loki's playbook was not lost. On anyone. There was a round of shivers. Loki was not someone anyone with a brain wished to cross.

"Even if what you say is true," Nott said slowly. "We don't have the power to fight even Loki alone! He built Hogwarts! He taught the founders! The Avengers were formed to _stop_ him and it took every single one of them! How can we fight that when we can't even fight Dumbledore?"

"We can fight Dumbledore. If we overcome our fears. And working together, working slowly, we can do it. HYDRA," Lucius said, indicating Von Strucker and Zemo. "Has the resources and manpower to strike at the Avengers and SHIELD. They have already done so."

Lucius looked at Nott. "You are right, we are prosperous. And that money is doing _nothing_. We owe it to our forefathers to find our Lord - and he is still alive, believe me, I know - and restore him. While we do so, I suggest that we fund HYDRA and put Greyback's people at their disposal.

They can wear down the Avengers, if not destroy them entirely, clearing the path for our Lord's return and an alliance that will shake the citadels of the gods!"

Lucius eyed the Death Eaters. They were the tricky ones. Greyback could be bullied if blood and power were not enough to entice him and HYDRA were already on side. But if he had them, then... then the fun would begin. "The personal risk would be limited. For one thing, we cannot act openly as we once did. Not yet."

"You're scared."

"Of the Avengers? No, merely wary, as one is around a well-trained attack animal."

"No. Of the man who holds their leash: Agent Fury of SHIELD," Nott said, a cruel half smile on his lips.

Lucius schooled his face into blankness with difficulty. "Director, actually. Why would be afraid of that pathetic muggle?"

"He gave you that limp," Nott said. "He snapped your wand and he nearly burned down your house."

"And I took his eye," Lucius said, teeth gritted, gripping his glass in a vice grip. "Your point, Nott?"

"That you don't want to move publicly because you think he'll come after you personally, the rest of us be damned," Nott said.

"That is a lie, Nott. One I might call you out for if we did not have bigger problems. The simple facts are these," Lucius said coldly. "The Light is in the ascendance. The Avengers, SHIELD and that twinkly eyed old fool have their metaphorical wand to our throats. HYDRA have agreed to work with us against the Avengers. All that will be required of you is gold that you aren't using, possibly your contacts in the Ministry to quietly curry support and your cooperation in the search for our Lord. I do not require much and I dare say you can easily deny it if asked by the bumbling fools at the Auror office. If not, you will be faced with the prospect of our Lord's wrath when he returns."

"You say when," Yaxley said. "How do you know he is even alive?"

"Because of me."

Everyone turned to the hooded figure who had just spoken. Until now, he had been watching and listening, sipping his wine, with an air of mild amusement, as if at the antics of children. What little of his face was visible from beneath the shadows of the black hood was deathly pale. It smiled, or more accurately, revealed its teeth. "I am a master of that which is dead. And that which is in between. Your master falls into the latter category." He inclined his head briefly.

"I am Gravemoss. And I can tell you that your Lord and Master still lives. Weak, true. Alone... for now. It is not only possible to return him to physical form, it is easy. He lives, Death Eaters."

"What are you?" Nott asked slowly.

Gravemoss threw back his head and laughed, revealing a few locks of white hair and glimmering red eyes beneath the hood. The red eyes reminded many of Voldemort before his fall – except that this man, or whatever he was, seemed to be of a different stripe. Just, however, as dangerous. If not more so. "A man of magic, Callidus Nott, and a man of magic can accomplish anything."

"He is a necromancer, Nott. And a very powerful one," Lucius said.

"How powerful?"

"I fought Stephen Strange once."

That boast got everyone's attention. Not many people could claim to have encountered the Sorcerer Supreme and remained at liberty. While he had not fought much during the Voldemort War, when he had he had made a mark, easily duelling the Dark Lord to a standstill. And the implication had been that he was quite used to overpowering things that made the Dark Lord look like a gnat. Of course, no one had said this, or even thought it, anywhere _near _Voldemort. It was not good for one's long term health. To even claim to have fought Strange implied ferocious power and deadly skill.

"I was young, then, powerful and arrogant. I thought I could best him," Gravemoss said, standing and going to the window, looking out at the cold woodland, where frost sparkled in the moonlight. "I was also foolish. I thought no mortal was a match for me. I was wrong. He was my match, easily, and far my superior in skill. Now, matters are different."

"You think you can defeat him?"

"It will not be easy. But yes. I can."

"I doubt you've learned enough in, what, five years, to make you the equal of the Sorcerer Supreme," Avery said derisively. Gravemoss looked like he was no older than thirty.

"Not in five. Five hundred," Gravemoss said. He chuckled darkly at the shocked expressions. "I am not mortal. I do not age like you. And the Sorcerer Supreme does not age, nor has he since he took the title in 1645. And he is a time traveller."

The Death Eaters exchanged looks. They had known that Doctor Strange did not age. The fact he had been around since the early seventeenth century, and had looked around 43 since 1645 was another matter. Some very select wizards, such as Armando Dippet, former Headmaster of Hogwarts, achieved similar ages, living, in Dippet's case, to 292 years old. But unlike Strange, they looked it.

"No!" Greyback barked.

"Excuse me?" Lucius said coldly. Gravemoss raised one thin eyebrow.

Greyback stood, kicking his chair back. He was a tall, broad, hairy man, with strength that verged on superhuman and teeth that verged on public health hazards. He glared at the HYDRA contingent. "I know what yer doin', Malfoy. I'm not listening to humans! And nor are my pack." He snarled. "Why would they command me?"

"Unfortunate," Lucius murmured. He glanced at Von Strucker, who raised an eyebrow, then flicked his gaze to Zemo, who was relaxed in a very dangerous manner. Lucius' lips twitched and he nodded slightly. Baron Zemo was not just any muggle, as Lucius well knew. Greyback was about to get a very nasty surprise. He idly drew his wand and flicked it, moving everyone back and leaving Greyback isolated. Before the werewolf could react, Zemo was on his feet, moving like a predator. Greyback, recognising a challenge when he saw it, growled threateningly. Then he lunged.

He was fast. But not as fast as Zemo, who moved in a purple blur, striking the werewolf hard across the throat with the edge of his palm, ducking beneath and spinning away from the lunge, before delivering a powerful kick to the back of Greyback's head that slammed him face first into the floor, and would have killed an ordinary man. Greyback rolled over and froze. Zemo's sword was at his throat.

"This blade," Zemo said coldly, speaking for the first time. His German accent was light and almost unnoticeable. "Is infused with many things. Including silver nitrate. If I may demonstrate." He touched Greyback's throat with the flat of the blade. There was a hissing sound and Greyback yelped in sudden pain. He took it away. "I am only sparing you as I do not think Herr Malfoy would like your blood staining his floors." He leaned down to the humiliated werewolf. "And to answer your earlier question, zer reason we command you is because we are _better _than you."

He sheathed the blade and made his way back to his seat without even looking at Greyback. Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Will there be any more problems, Greyback?"

There was a long moment of silence, and Lucius idly wondered if Zemo would object to taking Greyback's head as a souvenir. It would certainly solve a few staffing issues. "No," Greyback said eventually, slinking back to his chair like a beaten cur.

"Good."

"Is that all?" Nott asked.

"Not quite," Von Strucker said, as, right on cue, the chimera let out a gigantic roar and attacked something.

"One of your peacocks biting the dust, Lucius?" Avery asked, amused, to chuckles from the other Death Eaters.

Lucius fixed him with a cold look, and said nothing. Meanwhile, Gravemoss cocked his head as if listening to a symphony only he could hear and laughed. "Oh, this is _wonderful_," he said, gleeful. "Barons, wherever did you find _him?"_

Von Strucker smiled. "Little is hidden from HYDRA, Lord Gravemoss," he said, as the roars turned to yelps, whines, and cry of leonine pain. Then were silenced. The Death Eaters froze as one. Only one wizard in history had succeeded in killing a chimera, and had died falling from his flying horse.

There was another roar. That was the nundu. Soon enough, it too was abruptly silenced. Lucius gave Von Strucker a reproachful look. That nundu had been expensive. Von Strucker smirked, as if to say, 'at least you don't have to worry about feeding it anymore'.

"Lucius," Avery whispered. "What in Merlin's name is out there?"

It was Gravemoss who answered. "Why… SHIELD's worst nightmare, of course," he said, smiling. "The Ice Warrior." Footsteps, smooth and sure, began to come up the corridor. The Death Eaters were reaching for their wands, some trembling. "The Sleeping Death." Closer now. "The Shield Breaker." Still closer. "Europe's Terror." Nearly there. "He has many names, as have I. But the one many will know him best by is another matter."

The door slammed open. There were two thumps as the head of the chimera and the head of the nundu landed, rolling into the middle of the room, caught in their last moments. Was that _fear_ on their faces? Lucius' lip curled as the blood seeped into the fine Persian rug. Oh well. That was why one had house elves.

All eyes were drawn to the figure who had carried them in. Von Strucker and Gravemoss were smiling, because they knew who this tall, masked figure was. Zemo was probably smiling. It was a little hard to tell with him. Lucius idly studied the man before him. He was tall, powerfully muscled, with shoulder length dark brown hair and he held himself with supreme self-confidence. His skin was pale. His eyeless gaze, hidden behind a pair of black goggles set above a charcoal grey facemask swept the room. Since he didn't kill anyone, Lucius could only assume he was satisfied with what he saw. His clothing, a muggle combat vest and combat trousers with a three quarter length coat on top, was solid black and grey, thick and strong, designed solely for practicality – though it managed intimidating too, a fact only helped by, if you were sharp eyed enough, the fact that you could see the gleam of his metal left arm. He was heavily armed, and Lucius would bet, based on his limited experience of HYDRA and SHIELD's senior agents, that for every weapon he could see, there were at least two he couldn't.

"Lucius… what in Merlin's name is this creature?" Nott whispered.

Lucius smiled. "Baron Von Strucker? If you would?"

Von Strucker smiled. "Gentlemen, I would like to present to you the tool of the Avengers destruction. HYDRA's _greatest_ secret weapon… _the Winter Soldier_."

* * *

Hogwarts, Steve decided, was reassuring. Unlike almost everything else he'd encountered in this new century, it had hardly changed. The high, cool stone walls, aged yet giving an aura of majestic invincibility, were as strong and tall as before. The towers of the castle scraped the roof of the world, reaching up into the skies as their inhabitants sought to understand the mysteries of the world around them and of the stars.

So Steve would have thought if he was of a more lyrical bent. As it was, he was just pleased to finally find a building that looked almost exactly the same and one he could navigate around without asking directions.

He was, of the Avengers, probably the most familiar with Hogwarts, Thor excepted. Clint and Natasha, unless there was something they weren't saying – quite likely, but that didn't mean they were going to say it – had never been. The same went for Tony and Bruce. Loki had, by his own admission, last been in the school – save for remotely spying on his brother when he attended – in the early eleventh century, and remembered it well. It was, Steve had long since decided, weird to have friends who talked about Alfred the Great, Richard the Lionheart and Leonardo Da Vinci as if they'd been chatting to them just last week.

Whereas unlike the rest, he had spent a good two years during the war visiting Hogwarts on and off, using at as a base to rendezvous with Albus Dumbledore and the other Allied Wizards and to strike at HYDRA bases in Northern Europe. In the process, he'd got to know it's halls and it's Transfiguration Teacher rather well. Albus was, in some ways, very like Thor in that he was very kind, warm and friendly, if a little odd, but heaven help you if you got on his bad side or hurt someone he held dear. And unlike the Headmaster, a slightly bumbling bureaucrat called Armando Dippet, he could do two things that earned him Steve's deep respect: command loyalty through respect and love instead of fear and see the good in people, no matter how far they seemed to have fallen.

Which had, Steve thought, made his mistrust of star student, Head Boy and Hogwarts Heart Throb, Tom Riddle, all the more surprising. Or maybe it didn't. Maybe, unlike the other teachers, he saw past Tom's charm to the creature underneath. Steve was deeply reluctant to cast any man or woman as evil, but Tom had left him sorely tempted. There was a cruelty to his smile, an unsettling gleam to his eyes and the slight sneer he affected whenever in the presence of one of the Muggleborn Witches and Wizards or the Commando's – or had until Bucky had caught him and his friends bullying a muggleborn. With the help of Charlus Potter, Bucky had given the boy a well-deserved thrashing and lesson in manners.

The fact that Charlus, who had been maybe a year younger than him, had gone on to be the father of one of Steve's team mates who just so happened to be technically 21 (when he sort of died), 33 (the age he would be if he hadn't sort of died) and well over a thousand years old (the age he actually was) made his head hurt. Steve had decided it would be easier not to think about it and instead resolved to tell Harry a few stories about his mortal paternal grandparents.

"Steven Rogers?" an incredulous voice said.

He turned, to see a woman in late middle age – witches and wizards, it seemed, aged slower – staring at him in outright shock. He didn't recognise her… no, wait, hang on, he did. "Minnie?" he said incredulously. He smiled. "You haven't aged a day."

Minerva chuckled. "We both know that isn't true, Steve," she said fondly. "You, on the other hand… you look exactly the same." She sighed. "It's only been three years for you, hasn't it?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Look, Minnie, I'm so sorry about Bucky –"

"He went out the way he would have wanted to," she said firmly. "Fighting. You did all you could, and I can expect no more from a man who loved my fiancé like a brother."

Steve nodded again. "Thanks, Minnie. I just… can't stop beating myself up about it."

"You aren't alone in that," she said quietly, coming up alongside him. "Come, you're here to see Albus, aren't you?"

"I am. I wanted to catch up."

She smiled slightly. "I'll walk you there. He is looking forward to your visit, as are Filius and Rubeus."

"They're still around?" Steve asked, matching her stride.

"Yes, and in Hagrid's case, as large, indiscreet and warm hearted as ever," Minerva said.

"You mentioned –"

"That you are not being alone in beating yourself up?" Minerva said briskly. "Yes. Over Lily and James, no less."

Steve took a moment to think, then recognised the names. Harry's mother and Thor when he'd been human. "Oh?"

"Yes. You see, their secret keeper… I trust you've had the Fidelius explained to you?"

"Yeah, I think only one person can tell others the location of whatever you're hiding," Steve said. "And apparently it's very complex."

Minerva nodded. "Exactly. I knew their Secret Keeper, Peter. I was his Head of House for seven years! I should have known that he'd gone bad. I always knew he was weak, easily led and… exactly the sort of person who would gravitate to the biggest bully in the playground, if you follow me," she said, sighing. "I should have known!"

"You had no way of knowing, Minnie," Steve said gently. "The way Thor – James – tells it, he, Sirius, Remus and Peter were as close as brothers. If none of them picked up on it, how could you be expected to? How often did you talk to him after he left school, anyway?"

Minerva blinked. "Maybe a dozen times, never for long." She caught Steve's meaningful look, and chuckled slightly. "Yes, I know, I see your point. But still…"

"I know. One thing I've learnt, from Tony Stark of all people, is to live in the present, not the past," Steve said. "Coming from a guy who's only a few minutes away from heart failure and relies on a giant battery to stay alive, it's quite a strong message."

Minerva nodded. "I will try. Mr Stark sounds like a wise man. Surprisingly so, considering his…"

"Eccentricity?"

"Yes."

"He's completely mad, and sometimes infuriating, but he's also brilliant. He's even cleverer than his father," Steve said. That got a raised eyebrow. Minerva had known and been reluctantly impressed by Howard Stark's genius. "Howard improved things, but he didn't really think outside the box. Tony looks at the world sideways, and it shows. He also has a good heart, even if he tries to hide it."

"The first part sounds much like Albus," Minerva said dryly.

"I'm willing to bet Albus doesn't get drunk and try and build time machines in his lab," Steve said.

Minerva blinked. "He does that?"

"Yeah. The scary part is that they have a good chance of working."

Minerva considered the effects of such experiments. "How is Avengers Tower still standing?" she inquired, fascinated.

"I have no idea," Steve said flatly. "Pepper probably has something to do with it." He looked up. They'd reached the gargoyle. Trips tended to be shorter when passed with conversation. He reached and formally shook Minerva's hand. "Minnie, it's been a pleasure."

"The pleasure was all mine, Steve," she said. "And if you ever want a cup of tea and chat, my door is always open."

Steve smiled, and nodded. "Thank you, Minnie. You're always welcome up at the Tower," he said. He frowned at the Gargoyle. "Um… what's the password?"

"Cockroach cluster," Minerva said. The gargoyle stepped aside. "See you around, Steve."

"You too, Minnie. You too."

Steve smiled as he ascended the stairs. Some things stayed the same. Of course, the same could not be said for the people. Not appearance wise, anyway. Minnie was still beautiful, but she wasn't the captivating young beauty who'd caused Bucky to walk into a wall at first sight. People changed. It was a fact of life. He just hadn't changed with them.

He knocked politely on the door.

"Come in, Steve," Albus said. His voice… that was the same. Strong, warm and comforting, as it had always been. Another thing that stayed the same.

Of course, Albus Dumbledore himself had changed. His once bright auburn hair, coloured by a touch or five of grey, was solid white, and his beard was a good deal longer. His face showed the signs of age that one would expect from a man who was around one hundred and fifteen years old. But his posture was still tall, and his eyes, twinkling, were as alert and piercing as ever.

"Well, I must say it is a surprise," Albus said. "To see you in the flesh, not having aged a day." He shook his head in wonderment. "Despite all the years that have passed… you still look exactly the same."

"I have the serum to thank for that, Albus," Steve said.

"Indeed you do," Albus murmured. "We have your serum, your blood to thank for many things."

Steve frowned. "Albus?"

"Oh, nothing, just the ramblings of an old man," Albus said casually. Steve knew that they were anything but. The Albus Dumbledore he had known had been one of the greatest and deadliest minds he had ever known. The only difference between then and now was that this version had over sixty years more experience. Nevertheless, Albus probably wasn't going to talk, so he dropped the subject.

"How have you been?" Steve asked.

"Growing old," Albus said. "Watching many a student leave the school and find their future, for good or for ill."

"When did you become Headmaster?" Steve asked. "I mean, Dippet looked like he was going to stay on forever."

"He retired in 1954," Albus replied. "And took up a life of leisure. I believe he passed away five years ago."

Steve sighed. He hadn't particularly liked Dippet, though he hadn't disliked him either. The old man had been decent, but secretive and mistrustful, as well as being somewhat disdainful – though he never said as much – of muggles. Still. That was another man who had died before his dubious return from the ice.

"Oh, don't mope, Captain Rogers," a brisk voice said.

Steve's head jerked up. The portrait of Armando Dippet was giving him a reproving look. "Sir," he said, and saluted. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

"He is a courteous one," a former headmistress, Dilys Derwent, said approvingly. "Of course," she said to her uninformed fellows, who had died after Steve's disappearance. "He always was. They breed them polite in the colonies."

Steve snorted, both at the term 'colonies' and the 'polite' line. While he had been raised to be polite, Dilys had clearly never met Tony Stark. Or Howard, come to that.

"Captain, you have been granted the gift of a second chance," Dippet continued. "Do not waste that gift by sighing over what was and what could have been. Agent Carter would not appreciate it."

Steve twitched. "I don't know what you mean, sir."

"My boy, I have heard better lies from first years," Dippet said dryly. "I was alive for over ten times as many years as you have already seen and I was headmaster of Hogwarts for forty five years, after teaching for thirty two. I saw what was going on between you two the moment you walked in the room. So did Albus."

Albus' eyes were twinkling, and Steve gave him a somewhat betrayed look. The twinkling did not abate. At all.

"She is in a better place now," Dippet said gently. "And I doubt she would want you to ruin your life by crying over her and your rascal friends. In fact, I think she would have some rather harsh words on the subject."

Steve winced slightly, and nodded. Peggy would have chewed his ear off. "You have a point, sir."

"Of course I do, I'm a teacher," Dippet said, sniffing. "Take a cue from that Potter boy. He lost his wife and discovered he was the God of Thunder and he seems to have turned out a well-balanced if… _mischievous_ individual." Mischievous was pronounced like it was a cardinal sin. Exactly like, in fact, if Steve remembered his youthful confession sessions correctly.

"Perhaps you are being a little harsh, Armando," Albus said. "After all, James has over a thousand years of memory and a family to support him."

"That may be so," Armando acceded. "But it is still no excuse to mope."

"Sir, I –"

"The next words out of your mouth, my boy, had better be, 'yes sir, thank you for sharing your wisdom with me, sir'," Armando said sharply. "I will settle for 'yes sir'."

"… Yes sir."

"Good boy."

"On the topic of people lost, there is still one person from that time who still lives," Albus said. Steve blinked at him. "Sergeant Howlett, also known as…"

"The Wolverine," Steve said, and half smiled, remembering the tall, taciturn soldier, who, along with his disturbingly feral brother, had often been attached to Commandos missions. "If anyone survived, it would be him."

"And he hasn't aged a day, much like you. He's healing gifts have kept him young," Albus said.

Steve stared at him in shock, as a painful hope rose within him, a hope that he could meet someone he knew who _understood, _understood what it was like to go on without changing while all the world decayed and fell apart around him. "Where is he?"

"When I last checked, he was in Westchester, New York," Albus said. "But I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"Albus?"

"He has amnesia, Steve. Total amnesia. While you are better placed to investigate than I, his claws are now coated in metal, and he was involved in a project called 'Weapon X', which I suspect has something to do with both matters," Albus said quietly. "I am sorry."

Steve resolved to investigate. Maybe Clint and Natasha would know something.

"The world really has changed," he said quietly.

"It always is, Steve. By the time I met you, I was musing over the fact that the world had changed from my childhood, when if you suggested that the most dangerous Dark Lord of all time was just on the horizon and would ally with a muggle imperial power, you would be laughed at," Albus said.

"So, you reckon Grindelwald is more evil than Voldemort?" Steve asked. He had been told that Voldemort was considered the most evil and most feared Dark Wizard of all time.

"No. I feel to this day that while he was capable of horrific things, Gellert's intentions were not evil," Albus said. He sighed. "But the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Especially one's that were so easily twisted. I also believe that he was simply more dangerous than Voldemort could ever be. Gellert Grindelwald's dominion extended from the very southern tip of the Arctic sea to the warm coasts of the Adriatic, and from the Bay of Biscay to the depths of Russia. His magical empire extended much further and was far more ensconced, at its height, than Adolf Hitler ever dreamed of," Albus said. "If he had not been stopped when he was, it would have taken the full might of the wizarding civilisations of Africa, Asia and the Americas to defeat him. The power he wielded towards the end was immense, enough to stalemate and even defeat the Sorcerer Supreme. Which he did, once. The battle between the two was cataclysmic and did much more to devastate Berlin than any number of Allied bombing raids." He looked distant. "It was a month before Gellert and I fought. He was weakened. He underestimated me. To his cost."

"Sorcerer Supreme," Steve said, vaguely remembering someone by that title.

"Stephen Strange. You would have met him a couple of times. His main concern was stemming the tide of Gellert's allies from beyond this world," Albus said. "So he was not often seen on the battlefield. But when he was… it was generally spectacular."

Steve nodded, remembering a tall man with a goatee beard, white temples and dark hair who wielded magic in a way Steve wouldn't see again until he saw Loki in full flow.

"He's still around, you know."

"Really? Where?"

"No one knows. I saw him only a few years ago. Unfortunately, he was rather close to Harry's mother," Albus said. "Much like Nicholas was. He keeps himself to himself these days."

"That's a pity. He'd be a good candidate for the Avengers," Steve said.

"He probably would be," Albus agreed. "Sherbet lemon?" he said, offering the dish.

Steve ate one and made a face involuntarily. Albus chuckled. "They aren't for everyone," he admitted. "Now, I must ask, is Mister Stark as much like his father as I think he is?"

"He's… very like the Howard I knew, but not like the Howard that Tony knew," Steve said eventually.

Albus nodded. "Your disappearance hurt him badly," he said quietly. "Howard did not easily make friends, and you and Peggy were two of his closest friends. When Peggy died four years after the war, he went into a downward spiral I do not think he ever recovered from. He became cold, aloof and distant, something that persisted until his death."

"Yeah… that would makes sense from what little Tony says," Steve said. "The two didn't get on."

"I'm not surprised, Steve. Even at the age of ten, Anthony was showing signs of being cleverer by far than his father, and if there was one thing Howard could not stand, it was being beaten," Albus said gravely. "That said, he did love his son, he was proud of him and he felt that he could take the world into a brighter future. He was just very bad at expressing it."

Steve nodded. Howard had been charming, as demonstrated by the number of girls who flocked to him – and boys too. Howard's tastes had not been discriminatory, though he seemed to prefer women, and since he was discreet about it, no one really gave a damn. Or if they did, they were wise enough not to piss off a man who could design a weapon to kill them from a rubber band, an ice cube or two and a tooth pick in about two minutes flat and leave no evidence behind. And that wasn't even taking into account the fact that Howard was so rich and influential that he was pretty much untouchable.

But for all his charm, he'd been fairly emotionally inept. Tony was cut from the same cloth, though he was somewhat better with his emotions than Howard had ever been. Maybe because he had to be, Steve couldn't tell.

"You know Tony?"

"We met a few times when he was young when I was keeping in contact with Howard and the Commandos. I doubt he remembers me," Albus said. "Though I did meet on one or two of the trips I did meet a wonderful young man by the name of Charles Xavier, who said one of the wisest things I've ever heard. You would appreciate it, I think."

"What was it?"

"'Any dream worth having,' he said, 'is a dream worth fighting for'," Albus recited. "His dream was… well, it was not unlike the ethos I try to instil in my students. To question assumptions, confront prejudices, and be tolerant to your fellow man and woman."

"I think I'd like him," Steve said thoughtfully.

"I suspect you would," Albus said. "I daresay you'll run into him sooner or later. He is Anthony's godfather, after all."

"What? He never said," Steve said, then paused, and considered Tony Stark. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he said slowly.

"Anthony always has been somewhat private," Albus said. "About what he thinks matters."

"Are they close?" Steve asked, then shook his head. "No, I'll ask him myself."

Albus nodded. "A wise choice," he said. "Now, on the subject of godfathers, how goes Loki's progress in attempting to find the elusive Sirius Black?"

"He says he's working on it, but a whole bunch of factors mean Sirius is hard to pin down," Steve said.

Albus nodded thoughtfully. "Understandable, if a little disappointing," he said. "How is Harry settling in at the Tower?"

The conversation continued for some time in that vein, until the sun set and Steve glanced at his watch. With a final goodbye and a request to pass on his regards to Hagrid – he'd meant to see him, but time got away from him – he called Loki, who promptly teleported over.

"I trust it went well?" the older man asked.

"Yeah, it did, thanks," Steve said, before drifting back into contemplation. Loki nodded and teleported them both back to the Tower, where Steve spent much of the evening thinking. Armando was right, he decided. Peggy would have kicked his ass six ways to Sunday and back if she saw him like this, and Bucky… he chuckled. Bucky would never let him live it down.

**A/N: Yes, the Winter Soldier is here. Be afraid. Be **_**very **_**afraid. And in canon, Minerva was in love with a muggle who she had to break it off with when she was about 18. She would have married him. And, in this canon, I think she might have become a GI bride, or rather, Bucky would have become the inverse, if fate hadn't intervened.**

**Oh, and the thing about being Sorcerer Supreme is aging is somewhat optional. And the idea of Stephen being born in 1602 – which he wasn't, he's a time traveller – was a shout out to Neil Gaiman's '1602' miniseries which is completely awesome. Oh, and my sister being the best sister in the history of the world got a personally signed (as in, he used my name and drew a ghost cephalopod – squid – in the front cover) of 'The Ocean at the End of the Lane' for my post exam present.**

**Yes, I implied Howard was bisexual. There is every chance he was. No, he and Steve were not interested in each other, except, in Howard's case of a superficial, 'yum, that looks tasty', before he realised that Steve was straight as an arrow. This does not mean Tony is bi, and does not mean he isn't either. Since Tony's only going to be paired with Pepper, the question is moot.**


	12. Chapter 12: The Skull Beneath the Skin

**Well, the good news is that I now have my full manuscript again! Not just for COS, but for its sequels and AU's too. Yay! **

**The better news is that this is my Summer Holiday and I have a lot more time to write now. The only reason a chapter hasn't been put up yet is that I've been phasing the work I did when I was without said manuscript into the main text(s). And I still have about 52 pages of handwritten A4 from when I was minus any sort of computer to add in. And yes, the chapter you have all been waiting for, the one where Sirius is found! Huzzah! It also features an article by Christine Everhart, which I'm not too sure about, mostly because I felt it was a bit long, meandering and got away from the main point. But, hey. It is what it is, and if it bores you, you can skate over it.**

**The views on Love Potions are partly my own and partly the view of any 21****st**** century person when confronted with something like that. I do not think that they are romantic in the slightest. I think they are legalised tools for rape and manipulation. I also think that most wizards don't realise consciously how horrible they really are, hence James/Thor's casual first reaction to them, having grown up with them as a normal part of society.**

**Also, the bit about the Suggestibility Potion (my own invention) in the Marauders Era? Well, partly inspired by 'It's All Politics', a fantastic oneshot from Lily's point of view, I considered that the Marauders Era was essentially a world on the verge of open war, if not one in the middle of a dark, quiet, nasty war. It wasn't all merry pranks, sneaking out after hours and bromance between the Marauders. No, I think it was, at points, a lot darker than that. Especially for Lily. The Marauders are powerful, popular and in the case of James and Sirius, from strong Pureblood families , albeit blood traitors both. Remus and Peter are at least half bloods. I'm thinking that they and Lily, an unconnected, outspoken Muggleborn, would have been treated very differently…**

**My personal fancast for Lily Evans Potter? Rose Leslie. She feels right for Lily. Though I have a certain fondness for Karen Gillan in that role.**

**The chapter title is a quote from T.S. Eliot about the Jacobean playwright John Webster, who had a knack for seeing the darker side of human nature beneath the masks they wear, and wrote 'The Duchess of Malfi' and 'The White Devil'. I'm using it as a metaphor for the Wizarding World at large. There is far more than meets the eye, and not all of it is nice.**

"What's your dad's girlfriend like?" Ron asked curiously. They were in the Common Room of Gryffindor Tower, and Harry had spent another weekend at Avengers Tower. This one had been quieter. Well, relatively speaking. Ron, Hermione and the Twins had joined him, and then there had been the visit from that nice reporter. Her article was coming out

"Nice, _very _clever, easily distracted, funny, pretty… I like her," Harry said.

"She seems a little soft mate," Ron said, tone dubious.

"Ron, we're talking about the woman who used to chase tornadoes for a living and faced down a machine designed to kill gods. Soft is not the right word for it."

Ron stared at him. "_Really?"_

"Yup."

"Okay, so she's crazy."

"Maybe, but that just means she fits right in. I mean, her best friend is _Darcy._ Darcy is one hundred percent pure awesome, but she's not normal," Harry said. This admiration of Darcy had, partially, manifested in taking on some of her vocabulary.

Having met the Avengers, Ron could only concede this point. And he had something of a crush on that pretty reporter. He'd been amazed by all the scandalous clothing muggles wore as a matter of course. It was something his mother would not approve of. That said, he wasn't complaining. He remembered Darcy's cleavage and blushed. No siree, he was not complaining.

"It was a great weekend," he said eventually.

Harry nodded vigorously and thought back. It had all started with a conversation.

* * *

Harry sighed. It was Friday afternoon and he was on the phone to his uncle. This week, they would not be flying over. In the space of a remarkably short time, Jane had jury rigged what she called a dimension door from the Bifrost gate at the heart of the Tower. Instead of sending a signal to the gate of the New Bifrost on Asgard, as controlled by Heimdall, requesting an opening, it sent one to the Headmaster's fireplace, essentially forming a temporary floo connection. Loki had tested it several times, pronounced it, "safe for Asgardians, but not necessarily for humans", then Tony, as ever curious as a kitten and equally mindless of his own safety, had tested it himself, and pronounced it, "Yeah guys, it's fine – OW! Pepper, that's my ear! Owowowowowowow!"

"Is it wrong that I want to be normal?" he eventually asked his uncle. He, Hermione, Ron and the Twins were being picked up later that evening, but he wanted a private chat first.

Loki half smiled. "No, it isn't wrong. As I have mentioned, I too wanted to fit in," he said. "I somewhat managed it." He glanced at Harry. "I'm afraid, however, for you, normal isn't really... what is the phrase? Ah, yes. 'On the cards.'"

"Why not?"

"How many Midgardian children, magical or otherwise, have prophecies that apply to them before they are born, have the Sorcerer Supreme for a paediatrician, survive unsurvivable curses and somehow contrive to have three sets of biological grandparents, all of whom are or were near peerless in the fields?" Loki asked dryly.

Harry didn't really have an answer to that.

When the Avengers came, they came en masse and slightly early, so the more curious souls could poke around the school and learn more about magic. In simplified terms, to get the scientists to stop bugging Loki all the time because his patience was wearing thin and no one wanted an extensive remodelling of New York. Again.

"What are they doing?" Remus asked curiously.

Jane, Tony, Bruce and Erik were alternately questioning Loki - in Erik's case, from a slight distance -and furiously debating.

"Unlocking the secrets of the universe," Thor said laconically. "Or rather, of Hogwarts. They should be done by lunchtime."

Remus stared at him. "Hogwarts still has parts that are a mystery to the greatest magical scholars," he said. "James, I know your friends and girlfriend are genii, but aren't you overestimating them a little?"

Thor smirked at him. "It took the greatest minds in Asgard two and a half centuries to design and build the Bifrost. Jane built the prototype for the New Bifrost in her backroom in six months from spare parts with only the help of Darcy, Erik and SHIELD Agents whenever she needed convenient people for heavy lifting," Thor said, with definite pride in his voice. "Tony built a flying suit of armour in a cave out of scraps while also miniaturising the most powerful power source short of the Tesseract. It took him less than three months, including the time it took to recover from open heart surgery. Bruce is the leading authority on Gamma radiation in the world - though I am still not entirely sure what that is, tracked down the Tesseract in a matter of hours when no one else could, is a skilled biochemist - which I think has something to do with understanding the very building blocks of humankind - and has the breadth of expertise to keep up with both Tony and Jane in their own fields. Erik was Jane's mentor and designed the device that opened the Tesseract portal over New York, again, in a matter of hours."

Remus' jaw had dropped.

"It also helps that they are talking to the person who singlehandedly built Hogwarts," Thor added offhandedly.

While it was not possible for a jaw to drop off, Remus' was making a spirited attempt.

"What do you think of Jane?" Thor asked, tone curious and nervous.

"Hmm?"

"Jane."

"What do I think of her?" Remus asked.

"Yes."

Remus half smiled. He could recognise the same tone that James had used when he – finally, after a lot of teasing from Sirius – admitted his attraction to Lily, mid fourth year. It said that he wanted his friends good opinion and support, but if he didn't have it, that wasn't going to change anything with the object of his affections.

"I don't know her yet," he said honestly. "But what I do know is good."

Thor gave him a hopeful look. It only compounded his resemblance to a thunder god/wizard shaped Labrador.

"Yes, James, I like her," Remus added, amused. "What did you get up to this last week?"

"Oh, nothing much," Thor said airily.

"Well, Florean Fortescue said that Slug & Jiggers is now under the ownership of Stark Industries and Mister Stark has banned love potions from the store," Remus said, tone mild. "After the Avengers paid a visit."

Thor gave him an innocent look. Remus gave him a look that said, 'Prongs, are you really trying this on _me?_'

Thor acquiesced and explained.

* * *

"So... What do these do?" Tony asked, pointing at a small bottle on the shelf. The Avengers were being given a guided tour of Diagon Alley by Thor, and were all acting like kids in a sweet shop. This was a place of weirdness and wonders.

"Love potion," Thor said casually. "They make the drinker infatuated with the person who uses it. They're looked down upon, but a reasonably common. And they aren't hard to brew if I remember correctly.

There was a long silence. The Avengers exchanged looks. "Thor," Jane said slowly. "We have those too."

"Really?"

"They're called Date Rape drugs, big guy. As in, they leave you helpless and at the other person's mercy," Tony said, eyeing the bottle with extreme distaste. "And then they usually sexually assault you." He winced. "And these sound even worse. At least roofies don't make you think you're in love."

"Thor," Jane said gently. "I realise you once grew up with these as being... not out of the ordinary," she said, looking for words. "But what if someone..." she took a deep breath. "What if someone used one on Harry? Or on me?"

"And you have _no idea_ how many times I had to slip you the antidote for one of Amora's brews," Loki muttered. He looked at Thor. "One time, I missed it. And Amora nearly made you kill Sif, who she perceived to be a rival. Brother, these things are indescribably dangerous."

Thor's changing expression was like a rockslide. It started slowly, then began to gather pace, meaning nothing good for whatever had the misfortune to be in its way. A few moments later, he was directing a vicious glare at the bottle. "I never looked at it that way," he said through clenched teeth. A distinct smell of ozone was beginning to fill the air.

Tony nodded. "I can see that," he said. He looked at the proprietor who was looking worried. He bared his teeth. "I'm off to have a little chat with the manager," he said.

Ten minutes later, Tony owned the store. Five minutes after that, all the love potions were destroyed and the manager was fired when he dared object.

Thereafter, Tony was a man on a mission. First off, he went into Flourish and Blotts and ordered every book on the history of the use and legality of love potions. It was not pretty reading.

"Okay, so they were originally invented by a spurned potions master to, oh man, this is fucked up, seduce the woman he loved, who just so happened to be very beautiful and betrothed to his arch rival," Tony said, eyes flicking across the text at near superhuman rates. While he preferred computers, he was no slouch with books.

Thor promptly went crimson with rage and started twitching. The sky outside darkened ominously and Bruce, Jane, Clint and Natasha began eyeing him worriedly.

"Fortunately, he slipped it in the wrong drink, the drink of his rival, and the witch was just as talented a potioneer as her spurned lover, so she brewed up an antidote, and duelled the potions master… yeurgh, oh nasty," Tony said, deep in the book. "She force fed him his…" Tony went green. "Well, I don't think he ever tried that again," he said, shutting the book. "You magic people are _messed up!"_

"Thor?" Jane said gently. "What's wrong?"

"Easy," Darcy said. "He's getting worked up at the idea that that greasy potions dude who so obviously had the hots for Harry's mom might have tried it."

Everyone stared at her. "What? I may not know super science or super magic, but people are easy. I mean, sure he's pissed at Thor, but why would he hold on to a grudge for that long? Why would he hate Harry so much? Because he swung and missed," she said, shrugging.

"You are scarily perceptive," Tony said eventually, keeping half an eye on Thor.

"Thor," Jane said softly, putting a gentle hand on his arm. "It didn't happen. Relax. Calm down. Getting angry solves nothing."

Thor seethed for a moment more, sparking blue eyes meeting Jane's steady, warm brown, flicking down to her small, soft hand, then he relaxed, tensed muscles that could tear apart cities and shatter mountains untensing. Loki looked relieved. He didn't particularly want to spend the afternoon picking up the pieces from a Thor Odinson TM rampage and explaining to the Minister of Defence, the Home Secretary and the Prime Minister why a large portion of London was now a sinkhole. This, of course, presumed that there were any pieces left and that said sinkhole didn't claim Whitehall and Downing Street as well.

"Thank you, Jane. And you are right, it did not," Thor said, voice low. "Unfortunately, as James, I had in the past had cause to think such a thing and it brought back some rather nasty memories."

Tony opened his mouth to inquire. Bruce and Loki didn't have to look, hands shooting out to cover his mouth. Thankfully, the rest of the trip passed without any further incident. But it was a near miss.

* * *

Remus nodded slowly, remembering said incident. In Sixth Year, Lily had started hanging out with the Slytherins, particularly Snape and his fellow would be Death Eaters. She had been suspiciously at ease with them, and her friends had been worried, not unreasonably so. The Marauders, led by James – who was naturally suspicious and pissed off by this turn of events – and Sirius – who hated most things Slytherin, had investigated.

As it turned out, Lily had been being drugged with a Suggestibility Potion. Essentially, it made her more likely to agree with what the person who administered the potion said and did, slowly, over time and with more doses, bringing them totally under their control. It was, essentially, like a far more subtle and slower version of the Imperius Curse. It's advantage was that it was harder to break, because you didn't know you were under it. And everything the person who administered the potion said or did was considered normal. The implications had chilled Remus' blood.

Most Death Eaters disdained it, finding the Imperius Curse quicker and easier.

Snape, it seemed, didn't actually know about this. This was proven by Sirius forcefeeding him Veritaserum. And he wasn't particularly pleased when he found out, which the Marauders had considered the one and only point in his favour. Of course, as James had privately asserted, he was mostly pissed off because it wasn't him doing it and he hadn't noticed, though Remus had disagreed.

When this had been revealed, Snape had assisted in brewing an antidote – something the Marauders were grudgingly grateful for – Remus had spiked Lily's drink at lunch, and once it took effect, something signalled by Lily's expressions shifting like the stills of an old film, shifting through shock, comprehension, horror, anger, and finally, icy rage. She promptly showed that she was free of the potion by drawing her wand, stalking over to the Slytherin table and opening fire. The Sixth and Seventh Year Gryffindors, apprised of the situation, had followed, leading an assault on the guilty party.

The Fifth Years had followed, and once rumours had filtered back of just _why _the by now vicious duel was taking place, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had joined in. The Hufflepuffs because they had felt that this was an injustice and were not very fond of the underhanded tactics involved and the Ravenclaws because they prized independence of mind and retention of faculties above all. Having one's ability to choose compromised in any way, shape or form was horrifying to them.

While one might expect that Gryffindor, house of the chivalrous and noble, would be home to a lot of boys seeking redress for this wrong against a fair maiden, and indeed it was, it happened to be said fair maiden and her friends that did the most damage. Sirius, tone admiring, had later said, "I don't care what they say, girls are scary. They're clever, dangerous and they do _not _fight fair."

Since Jugson had had a lit candle shoved where no candle, lit or otherwise, should go while prancing around and singing 'Sweet Transvestite' from _the Rocky Horror Picture Show_, Avery had been found rocking and sobbing in a corner, eyes wide and horrified, seeing some nightmare beyond the reach of mortal man, Travers had only been identified by the name inside his robes, the rest having become a faintly purple and vaguely slug shaped mass with lots of orange warts and multi-coloured tentacles and the Carrows had been transfigured into toads, then loosed into the dungeons, it was generally considered that he had a point.

James, however, had been just as vicious, as Mulciber, the ringleader, had found out. And so had everyone else, when they found him artificially splinched, with one leg floating in the lake, the other in a broom cupboard in the Astronomy Tower, one arm wedged in the rafters of the Great Hall, the other in a stall in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and his head and torso, still functional, in the deepest, darkest parts of the dungeons that the Marauders knew of. With a silencing spell on his mouth. It took them two days to find all of him.

McGonagall had been furious. When she'd found out the why of the attack, she'd passed into the sort of cold tranquillity that makes people want to emigrate to Australia, grow beards, change their names and consign themselves to a lifetime of bad beer and sheep jokes rather than face it.

Since Lily hadn't been forced to do anything heinous – much to everyone's relief – and James' spells had been cast perfectly, in full knowledge that it would only make the would be Death Eater wish he was dead, therefore allowing the teachers to put Mulciber back together again, no one was expelled. Mulciber would have been if Veritaserum had been used on him or his friends and his true intentions were discovered.

The Marauders knew. Lily knew. Snape knew. And aside from the ringleaders, that was it. As to what they were… well, Lily was a beautiful young woman, and Mulciber had plans 'to show the world where mudbloods belonged'. And to make her like it. Pictures do need to be drawn, and all that needs to be said was that there was very good reason that Mulciber was number two on Thor's 'to smite' list after Voldemort himself.

The honest reactions of the Marauders, their fury and genuine concern, and their even stronger than usual silence on the matter, had, if not endeared them to Lily, had made her realise that they were a lot smarter, a lot braver and a lot more mature than they let on. It had led to three things.

One, Lily, already a formidable duellist and a genius at potions, developing her expertise in both in whatever spare moment she had, and carrying a bezoar everywhere. She swore never to be helpless ever again. Two, the Marauders starting to mature more as they realised how serious things were getting. This was not kids' stuff anymore. This was war. It just hadn't been declared yet. Three, the battle lines were drawn. You were either on one side or the other. No middle ground. No second chances. No way out.

All in all, Remus was amazed that there was anything left of Diagon Alley.

"You have changed. For the better," he said.

"Maybe I have. I'm still killing Mulciber first chance I get," Thor said flatly.

"I never doubted that," Remus muttered, inwardly vowing to hold the bastard down.

"Dad!"

Thor turned, expression brightening, to see his son, who shamelessly hurtled in for a hug, ignoring his Professor entirely.

"Hello, Harry," Thor said, grinning. "How are you?"

"Happy to see you and the others," Harry said.

Remus watched father and son banter for a while, before he felt a light touch on his arm, designed to unobtrusively get his attention by someone who was used to jumpy people. He looked down slightly, and saw a man of medium height, with dark, curly hair, tanned skin, warm, intelligent brown eyes and a gentle, kindly demeanour. But there was something beneath the surface, something… dangerous. It put Moony's hackles up. It was like dealing with another were creature, but there was no dispute over dominance. Not in terms of strength.

While contests of dominance among werewolves were settled by conflict in human and wolf form, there could be no thought to fighting a creature like the one he sensed dwelt beneath the mild mannered exterior of the man before him. It would be like fighting a storm or an avalanche, an unstoppable force of nature. He blinked as the man stuck out a hand.

"Hi, I'm Bruce, Bruce Banner. You're… Remus, right?" the man said.

Remus nodded. "Remus Lupin, Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said. "Doctor Banner… James mentioned you as one of the Avengers."

"I'm the Hulk."

It was a matter of fact statement, and from such a small, seemingly harmless man, should have been utterly ridiculous. But even if Remus hadn't been able to trust Moony's senses, the hard look in the man's eyes would have gone some way to convincing him that the man was telling the truth.

"Oh. How do you manage your… condition?" Remus asked, then inwardly cursed. He could hardly have been more tactless if he'd tried.

Bruce caught his expression and smiled wryly. "When I first met Tony, he told me he loved my work and 'the way you lose control and turn into a giant green rage monster.' I'm used to it," he said calmly. "I've actually been wanting to have a word with you about your…" he lowered his voice. "Furry little problem."

For a split second, Remus was furious that James had told anyone, let alone people that he, Remus, did not know, then reason asserted itself. One, the Avengers weren't part of the Wizarding World. There wasn't the expected stigma. Two, this was the one man in the world who wasn't a were who might really, truly understand him. "All right," he said quietly, and allowed Bruce to lead him off to the side.

"To answer your question, well, let's go back to the start. I was a scientist working for a guy called General Ross. I was dating his daughter, Betty Ross, who was working on the same project. We were trying to recreate the Super Soldier Serum, the same stuff that gave Steve his abilities. I thought that gamma rays, a form of radiation that can lead to mutation, were the key. I wanted to help my country, I thought their serum was the key to freeing all mankind from disease and pain," Bruce said. "They weren't the key. I knew it was risky, so I tested it on myself." He grimaced. "Cue the Hulk. The first rampage put Betty in hospital. It nearly killed her." He looked at Remus. "I think you can guess what happened next."

"You were hunted. They thought you were a monster."

"No, not just a monster," Bruce said, bitter amusement in his tone. "They thought I was a _weapon._ They thought I was the key to a new kind of soldier. Who wouldn't want to have an army of guys who can tear castles and buildings apart, ignore bullets and probably spells like bee stings and leave chaos wherever they go? So I ran. I hid and looked for a cure."

"I'm sorry," Remus said quietly. "I… I was bitten as a child. My father had offended a powerful werewolf called Fenrir Greyback. He's a savage, who embraces his condition – last I heard, he was more wolf than man. He enjoys killing and biting. Especially children. He likes raising them away from civilisation, so they obey him and him alone."

Bruce made a face. "Yeah, I've met his type before," he muttered. "Recruitment tactic as old as time, make them believe that no one else will have them, take 'em in and they'll kill for you. Simple as that."

Remus looked at him, surprised. Though intellectually he knew that this man had been on the run, and that the he also happened to be the Hulk, it was hard to imagine him encountering things like Greyback. Or maybe, he thought, as he looked deep into the other man's dark eyes, and saw just the tiniest hint of green, it wasn't.

"I went to some pretty bad places, Professor Lupin, and met some pretty bad people. I know the type," Bruce said. "On the embracing thing… he's mostly wrong. Not completely, though."

Remus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I came to accept the Other Guy, that he was part of me and was always going to be. We've come to an agreement," Bruce said.

"What's that?"

"I occasionally let him out, to fight and to run around in the desert or something like that," Bruce said calmly. "I'm willing to bet that it was a lot easier to transform when you had your friends with you, and something to look forward to."

Remus thought back and realised that Bruce was right. Transformations had been easier, smoother. He and Moony… well, they hadn't quite been one, but they had worked together.

"The secret isn't giving up control or trying too hard, it's balance," Bruce said gently. "We can help. Not just me and the Hulk, but Loki and Thor too. Loki's a shapeshifter and in Asgard they have a group called the Wolf People, a race of natural born werewolves. If we can't help, they can."

Remus stared at him for a long moment, imagining a life without constant dependency on Wolfsbane, with no fear of losing control and eating someone or turning them… and smiled. It was worth a shot.

"When do we start?" he asked.

"Monday," Bruce said. "This is going to be risky and secret, so we don't want anyone else in the Tower."

Remus nodded. "I'll look forward to it," he said. "But, I'm teaching –"

"Professor Dumbledore has approved sick leave. Loki is filling in at lesson times," Bruce said, and smirked. "The school should still be standing when you get back."

Remus grinned. Things were looking up.

* * *

The main thing that was different about this weekend as compared to the last was that a journalist came to visit. The one journalist that the Avengers even vaguely trusted. Her article follows:

**Inside the Ivory Tower **

_by Christine Everhart_

_Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower, isn't made of ivory. Instead, it is made of glass, titanium and steel, a tall, gleaming, defiant challenge to any who would harm the innocent, presiding over the New York skyline like a modern Colossus of Rhodes, powerful, remote and both unnerving and inspiring. It stands out, removed from the everyday in a way that instantly attracts notice and despite the fact that it's very obvious, no one in their right minds would even consider attacking it. It is larger than life and can't help but attract attention. Much like the Avengers themselves._

_The Avengers are a mixed bag of oddballs by any standard. A supersoldier from World War II, two near immortal Princes from another dimension who were worshipped as Gods in the ancient past, one of whom is a recovering supervillain, a genius billionaire philanthropist (the playboy part fell by the wayside some years ago) in a hyperadvanced suit of armour, a mild mannered, kindly scientist who occasionally turns into a Hulk and two master spies. Somehow, this group of highly dysfunctional individuals has formed one of the deadliest fighting forces in recorded history._

_And that's even before meeting them and their equally unusual family and friends. And by family, I refer to none other than the mysterious son of Thor, who stunned the world merely by existing when he cropped up a month ago._

_In retrospect, it isn't so surprising. Thor is an immortal warrior god, or as near as makes no difference, and from an objective point of view, handsome and attractive. It is logical that he would have a child. The reality, however, is somewhat startling, and speculation has been rife. Many rumours swirl around the boy, yet only one thing is certain. The Avengers are ferociously protective of their youngest affiliate. _

_Footage of a recent battle in Central Park has shown the Hulk, remarkably, shielding the boy with his body from a barrage of heavy duty laser fire, then holding him close to his chest and protecting the boy while he quite literally single handedly destroyed any robot within reach. Thor's response to his son being threatened was a marked increase in violence. Any robot the Hulk did not smash, Thor obliterated. _

_Perhaps this is not surprising. The Avengers aren't known for having many who they hold dear, and are very protective of those who they do care for. The sight of Tony Stark mowing his way through a homegrown terrorist cell when one of them dared make threats to Pepper Potts, his fiancée and, as I can personally attest to, the one person in the world he trusts implicitly, was terrifying. The only reason any of them survived to be arrested was because Thor managed to get him in a restraining bear hug before he could unleash the heaviest weapons in his considerable arsenal._

_Then there was the arrest of Thor's sister in law and her husband, who had been granted custody of Harry on his mother's death and father's… well, I wasn't sure how to put it until Loki helpfully suggested 'discorporation'. It seems an appropriate word to describe the complex and highly mystical arrangement that led to Thor being incarnated as a memory less human baby, living, dying and returning to his natural body. Thor's obvious and understandable fury caused weather patterns all over Northern Europe to go haywire, and a very large yet localised thunderstorm to form over the South Eastern English county of Surrey. The meeting room used for meetings of the British Government's Emergency Council, COBRA, was also sporting a large, suspiciously Thunder God shaped hole. _

_This undoubted and understandable protectiveness of Harry shows how important one thirteen year old boy is to them. And it helps go some way to understanding the Avengers as a whole._

_Tony Stark's father is a difficult subject. His mother was much loved, as shown by the charitable wing of the Stark fortune being called the Maria Stark Foundation, but she was also often abroad when he was young. Steve Rogers lost both his parents before he left high school. Neither Natasha Romanova nor Clint Barton have revealed anything about their pasts, but if I had to guess, both are orphans. When I began to ask about Bruce's father, Tony clamped a hand over my mouth and shook his head urgently. His mother is also dead. _

_Only Thor and Loki have both parents, but each have their own traumas. Loki was a bookish academic among boisterous warriors, and did not, apparently, fit the Asgardian ideal with his smooth tongue, magical skill, scholarly brilliance and sly trickery. _

"_I became resentful," Loki says, over a cup of truly excellent coffee. When I mention this, he laughs. "It is a hobby, but I thank you nonetheless," he says modestly, though I can see a twinkle of pride in his bright green eyes. He returns to his previous subject. "As I said, I became resentful. Thor was, through no fault of his own, the perfect Asgardian. Brave, boisterous, honest, hearty and as good hearted as it is possible to be, if one ignored the unsurprising arrogance. A not unreasonable Midgardian comparison would be that he was the Big Man On Campus while I was the biggest nerd of them all. I was… considered useful, I suppose, and I did have some very good friends. I just saw them as being Thor's friends first, mine second." He shrugged. "A fairly minor thing, you might imagine, but if I remember my Midgardian history correctly, was the most evil tyrant in modern history not a frustrated and resentful artist with a knack for words?"_

_He refers, of course, to Adolf Hitler, and I have to admit, the comparison is an interesting one. As I tell him he was not as bad, his lips twist._

"_I appreciate your kindness, my lady, but the truth is that if I had not been stopped, I would likely have been far worse," he says grimly. He lightens. "But thankfully, I was stopped. And now I work to undo what I did."_

_It is at that moment that I first see the elusive and mysterious Harry. Short for his age and slender with it, with black, messy hair and, behind round glasses, green eyes that are only a few shades different to Loki's, dressed in casual clothing, he is very much his uncle's nephew._

_He hovers in the doorway, and gives me a cautious smile. I return it, and get a dazzling grin in response. His uncle follows my gaze and smiles. "Please excuse me, Miss Everhart," he says politely, before turning to his nephew. "What is it, Harry?"_

_Harry says that his friends, whose names have been removed for privacy reasons, and he have gone looking for Thor and can't find him._

_Loki tells him where he'll be – the gym – and is about to dismiss Harry when he sees him looking at me with a strange mix of childish guileless curiosity and the sort of calculation and assessment that I would expect to see in the eyes of Tony Stark. He clearly wants to talk to me._

_One of the conditions I was given for this article was that I was not to interview Harry. At all. Or even quote him unless I got express permission. This, Tony made especially clear. "We want the kid to have his privacy," he said firmly, with a sort of willpower behind it that you could bend steel bars around. The Avengers are very definite about the people they care about. That said, I was allowed to talk to him, and Loki suggested we all go and find Thor._

_While I can't report the conversation, I can tell you that Harry is a strange mix of his father and his uncle, with some elements that can only have come from his deceased and much missed mother. He has his uncle's dry wit, mischief and, once he gets going, his way with words. _

_This is mixed in with, once he is comfortable with me, a brash cheerfulness, honesty and openness that is pure Thor, along with the fact that even a few minutes observation tells me that he is the undisputed leader of his little band of three friends. The other two are a fourteen year old boy and girl, the boy with a shock of red hair and numerous freckles and being of lanky, puppyish proportions that promise strength in years to come, whose blush on seeing me clashed horribly with his hair, the girl with bushy brown hair, sharp brown eyes and what has to be a genius level IQ, who occasionally snapped at the red haired boy in a fondly exasperated fashion. They both follow him implicitly. Even the redhaired twins, older brothers of Harry's friend by two years, who Loki casually mentions are two of his apprentices, defer to him. This instinctive leadership, tempered, as I witnessed, by the ability to take suggestions, are very much traits he inherited from his father._

_When we get to the gym, Harry calls over to his father, who turns. The instant smile on his face, not in the least dimmed by the fact that Barton, his opponent, takes the opportunity to brain him with a hefty dumbbell, was truly heartwarming. It helps that more damage was done to the dumbbell than Thor, who merely stumbled, gave a hearty laugh and scooped his son up when he ran over with unusual enthusiasm for a teenager. _

_The actions of a younger child, maybe, but in the context, they make sense. From my earliest dealings with the Avengers, Thor has always been the most tactile, being completely innocent of embarrassment and of the concept of personal space. His son, again, takes after him in this, and is making up for a good twelve years of lack of familial love. Certainly, I doubt anyone would begrudge him the chance to act a little younger than he is._

_This juxtaposition of a childishly carefree nature and, as he later reveals, astonishing maturity, is one that permeates his very being. As Stark observed, "He's a demigod. Contradiction comes with the territory."_

_I came to Avengers Tower intending to interview them all separately, but I quickly changed my approach, if only because when Harry is around, they drop their guards. Or, in the case of Romanov and Barton, as much as they ever drop them. It is hard not to relax around such an energetic, earnest person. _

_One moment he's helping Stark tune up one of his cars and getting completely filthy, the next Pepper Potts or Jane Foster – long term girlfriend of Thor, who must be rather relieved that his son and girlfriend get on well - is pointing him in the direction of a sink to get himself cleaned up, watching him to make sure he actually does it while he chatters away to Clint Barton – a highly qualified pilot and the one who usually pilots the various Avengers 'Quinjets' - about flying, laughing raucously with his friends at some joke made by Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster's former assistant and friend to the Avengers, then he runs off with his female friend and the twins to watch his uncle refine the wards on the Tower in his study at the very heart of the Tower, green eyes wide with wonder as he watches Loki's hands twitch and dance, pulling at half visible strings of navy blue, ice white, solid red, shimmering emerald green, daring crimson and vibrant, burning gold, weaving a cat's cradle of protective magic. He is always on the move, and, it seems, almost always welcome wherever he goes. _

_It is remarkable to see how patient Stark is in teaching him, how affectionately firm Potts and Foster both are with him, the way Barton is happy to listen to him and the way his uncle finds the time to spare him a small, confidential smile while in the midst of what I am informed is immensely complex magic._

_It is quite extraordinary. Yet there is something about him that invites you into his confidence, invites to pay attention to him and to like him. Within two hours of entering the Tower, before I knew it, I found myself a co-conspirator in one of his pranks upon the endlessly patient Steve Rogers. This strange charisma, which makes those who are disposed to like him like him all the more, is another thing he inherited from his father. While Loki can be a little intimidating at first, Thor is a big bundle of fun, all smiles, warmth and bone crushing hugs – though it seems that his restored memories have aided him in understanding the concept of personal space – and is instantly likeable, much like a particularly benevolent fraternity brother or a thunder god shaped Labrador. _

_While Harry is not quite the same – his aura is more of a lovable, warm, smiling child on the edge of adulthood, much like a cross between his father and uncle - it has much the same effect. Even the occasional SHIELD Agents and other scientists who visit the Tower spare him smiles, kind words, ruffled hair and in one amusing case, sweets. It isn't supernatural, as such. His personality is merely magnetic. _

_And this is shown in no better fashion than an article that was supposed to be all about the Avengers became all about their youngest affiliate. Maybe that is fair enough. He reveals a lighter, more relaxed side to the Avengers, who are all too often only seen at stage managed galas and in the heat of battle. He is the lens through which I saw the truth of the Avengers._

_I saw Stark as a relaxed, patient teacher, treating Harry like a favourite nephew. I saw Potts and Foster act as a mother figure and an older sister figure respectively, Potts revealing her carefully controlled softer side. This does not mean that she's lost any of the sharpness that has made her America's richest woman and one of its most successful business people. Far from it. Instead of being replaced, the image of Pepper Potts I previously had merely gained another layer of complexity._

_I saw Thor as the doting father that I suspect he always has been at heart. I saw Loki as the sort of indulgent uncle that every child might wish for, much like Tony – as he is in everything – but quieter, gentler, never raising his voice, in a sharp contrast to the fire and bombast of his actions and words in battle._

_I even saw beneath the masks of Barton and Romanov. I didn't see much, but I saw the people they could have been. Barton, like Stark, treats Harry a sort of nephew/little brother, encouraging his mischief, and is quite happy to listen to the boy's babble. Romanov actually gives him genuine smiles, and he is one of the very few people who are not intimidated by the reputation of the Black Widow, which I suspect she finds somewhat refreshing._

_And then there is Rogers. Rogers the really almost too good to be true. In all my life, I have never met anyone so honestly and unfailingly nice as Captain Steve Rogers. I once asked Stark about it. He said, "Well, I figure Cap was just born that way. I mean, the Law of Averages dictates that you're going to get someone ridiculously nice eventually, if only to balance out people like me." _

_Rogers is somewhat more forthcoming. "What Doctor Erskine [the creator of the Super Soldier Serum. His secret apparently died with him when he was assassinated by a HYDRA spy] said was that it made 'a good man great and a bad man worse'. It magnifies everything, Miss Everhart, not just the physical attributes, but mental too."_

_His tone is self-deprecating, and it is clear that Erskine's quote embarrasses him. He doesn't mind being thought of as a good man. A great one, however, is another matter. "I'm just another kid from Brooklyn," he says, tone dismissive. "Nothing special about me."_

_His statement is somewhat ruined by Stark and Loki rolling their eyes in the background. For all their cynicism, both believe otherwise._

"_I have lived since your kind counted their years in three digits," Loki said. "I am arguably the most extensively travelled of the Aesir [the larger and more powerful of the two known sub groups of Asgardians], and have been walking the Nine Realms for millennia. And Steven Rogers is quite possibly the most remarkable individual, of any species, that I have ever met."_

_His brother agrees. "There are very few men or women who I would follow into battle, and only one I would follow without question. Steven is that man."_

_Quite the endorsement, especially when added to the fact that he is the one authority figure that Tony Stark is willing to listen to._

_Despite all their apparent remoteness and distance, the Avengers are as human as you and I, on the inside. Even if they occasionally need the presence of an innocent child to show it. Like the Tower itself, once you get past the intimidating, shiny exterior, you'll find that there is warmth, gentleness and humanity within._

As he finished the article, and nodded his satisfaction, Loki stiffened suddenly, then ran to his room.

"Brother?" Thor called. "What is it?"

There was a loud cry, then a call of, "Brother! I have found him! I have found Sirius Black!"

* * *

Sirius Black was beginning to wonder if he'd finally lost it. It was rare that sane men saw deceased best friends appearing out of the blue with enormous hammers and strange pseudo-medieval armour.

"Padfoot?" the hallucination said. "Is that you?"

"Go away," Sirius said coldly, and sighed as the figure recoiled. "Look, I'm sure you're a perfectly nice hallucination, but I don't have the time to be insane. I'm busy looking for my godson."

"Harry is safe," the hallucination replied.

"No he isn't," Sirius snapped, unsure of why he was arguing with a hallucination, but doing it anyway. "Peter's at Hogwarts. Waiting."

"Peter?" the hallucination asked. "I'd have thought that he would be as far away from Harry as possible."

Sirius shook his head. "His information led to Voldemort going down. If Voldemort comes back, he'll need something big to get back in favour."

"Like Harry," the hallucination said, nodding. "How did you find out he was there?"

"An article in the Prophet," Sirius said, sitting down. He might as well get comfortable if he was going to talk to a hallucination. "About the prize winning Weasley family."

The hallucination nodded. "The youngest son is a close friend of Harry's," he said. "And I believe that the youngest child has something of a crush on him. In fairness, he did rescue her from the Chamber of Secrets."

Sirius paused. His delusions never offered information he didn't know, even in his dreams. For instance, he'd known that Lily was a screamer since that time he'd walked in on her and Prongs going at it in a disused classroom in Seventh Year. Of course, he would later admit, that might have been shock rather than an orgasm.

"Prongs?" he asked in shock.

"It's me, old friend," the hallucination that he was pretty sure was James Potter said.

"Am I dead?" he asked hopefully. "Am I at peace?"

He could literally see James' heart break.

"No, Padfoot," he said quietly. "You haven't yet got the rest you so richly deserve."

"What's with the armour?" Sirius asked.

"My birth name is Thor Odinson, God of Thunder and Lightning. I was sent to Earth to be born and live as James Potter by my father, as an object lesson in humility," James said. The sky above darkened briefly by way of emphasis. "I had no memories of who I was. Until Voldemort killed me. I was helpless to stop him killing Lily and marking Harry. And I wasn't able to save you. I went mad with grief when I returned to Asgard, and father was forced to put a block on my memories. My brother Loki sensed that Harry was in danger – dementor attack at a Quidditch match – and restored my memories. Now here I am."

"Is Harry alright?" Sirius asked sharply.

"He is, and probably plotting some mischief with my brother at this moment," James said, smiling fondly. He reached out with his left hand. "Take my hand."

Sirius took it, and was pulled to his feet.

"HEIMDALL!" James cried. "OPEN THE BIFROST!"

A shimmering rainbow portal opened, which James pulled him through.

"Where am I?" Sirius asked in awe. He was standing on a rainbow bridge, and far in the distance was a golden city, all great towers and mighty spires, with a vast sea rolling below. It was beautiful.

"Welcome Sirius, to the Realm Eternal. Welcome to Asgard," James said softly.

Sirius made to step forward, then saw a tall, scary black man in golden armour with eyes that were the same colour. He gulped.

James nodded to the man politely, and he nodded back.

"Um… hello?" Sirius said.

The man looked down at him and smiled. It was somewhat reassuring. "Greetings Lord Sirius of the House Black. I am Lord Heimdall, gatekeeper of Asgard."

"My pleasure," Sirius said, then paused. "Did he say _Lord _Sirius? I thought I was disinherited."

"Your mother is dead, and the inheritance defaults to you," James said, walking on. "Oh, and if I look like this," he said, face shifting. And it wasn't just his face. He grew a few inches and bulked up, with shoulder length blond hair and blue eyes. In a couple of moments, he was a completely different man, tall, powerfully built, and superficially intimidating. Or rather, intimidating until you saw his expression, a warm smile and kindly blue eyes that shone with age, wisdom, kindness and just a hint of mischief. "It's because that is my base form as Thor. My brother granted me the ability to shift from one," he shifted back. "To the other," and back to Thor form. "At will. Like an animagus transformation."

"Why are you in Thor form now?" Sirius asked.

"Because we're in Asgard, you idiot," James said fondly. "The people here recognise me as their Prince. Though they are getting used to my James Potter form, and Mjolnir in many ways acts as a name badge," he said, tapping the hammer. "They are more used to this form." He grabbed Sirius. "If I fly you to the Palace, do you promise not to vomit?"

"Vomit? Why would I do thaargggh!" Sirius said, yelling as James took off.

**And there you have it. Enter Padfoot. The next chapter is largely Asgard centric. Sirius is introduced to the Warriors Three. This, as Thor will reflect, is probably not a very good idea. **

**Also, yes, this is light on actual Harry, but he casts a strong shadow over proceedings, if you follow me. This is also a somewhat darker, more serious chapter, ergo, less Harry/Thor family bonding. **

**To be honest, this is my could-be-great, could-be-shit chapter. I'm not entirely sure how it all hangs together, so ****please, review. Every little piece of feedback makes me a better writer.**


	13. Chapter 13: Let There Be Chaos

**Yes, a new chapter! Rejoice! And Harry isn't in this one either, because I couldn't fit him in. Instead, for lucky 13, you get Sirius causing mayhem and introducing the concept of panty raids - and thereby some of the supporting cast – to Asgard.**

**Newboy: Thor is proud of his friends and girlfriend. Ergo he is somewhat exaggerating. Also, one, they're figuring out Hogwarts, not all of magic. Two, Loki pretty much singlehandedly built Hogwarts, and he didn't exactly leave notes, meaning people had to work from the ground up and try and figure out a form of magic that was similar but in it's applications and style, very different to theirs. Three, Tony is a curious as a cat and you can bet that he'd have interrogated Loki and Thor on the subject and dug up SHIELD's files on it. Four, you're wrong. Magic as presented in the HP verse is very like science. It follows laws, X times Y equals XY, not ZNGL23 or some such. There's even Arithmancy, which is pretty close to actual science. The real old stuff is a little intangible and hard to pin down… but that's like high end Quantum Physics. It is exceptionally hard to define in human terms, and is affected by things that are, for now, beyond our understanding.**

**Grindelwald is more dangerous, not because of his magical power, but because of who he was. His scale of influence was massive. Voldemort was powerful personally, but not politically. **

**At his height, he only ruled magical Britain for a year. Grindelwald ruled an empire that spanned even further than the Third Reich, overcoming powerful governments and magical creatures that had rooted objections to being subjugated. Voldemort knocked over a single government that was largely composed of people who followed his ideology/didn't object to it/were corrupt. He had dementors, giants, (both of which flocked to him because he was Dark and violent more than anything else) some extremely powerful wizards and witches, magically and politically. It was easy.**

**Voldemort was charismatic. He was magically powerfully and magically brilliant. But I don't think he would have had the skill and the patience to run a country, let alone an empire. Why do you think Thicknesse was put in charge? Voldemort didn't want to rule in the personal sense. Grindelwald was cleverer and more dangerous. More evil, no. More dangerous, yes. In leadership terms, Voldemort was an Adolf Hitler. Grindelwald was a Stalin. One is more evil than the other – though both are evil – but one is far more dangerous than the other.**

**As for Grindelwald, we don't know much about him. He doesn't feature much, because, like World War II in which he was tied up, most of his battles were fought in Europe. The series deals with Britain and Hogwarts. If it dealt with Durmstrang and Bulgaria, we'd hear more about him. But I theorise that since he was intrinsically tied to Nazi Germany, he would have had similar scope. Voldemort is peanuts compared to that. He's personally extremely dangerous, and he can incite some allies, but that's it. He is limited.**

**As for the credit… Loki is the God of Magic. Though it is not seen so much in the films, he is incredibly powerful. So is Thor, in his department. You clearly have no idea what that really means. Dumbledore and Voldemort are powerhouses. By wizarding standards. By the standards of one small community which is suddenly part of a very big, very bad universe. The scale is completely different.**

As it turned out, Sirius did not vomit, either in mid air, or when they landed at the far end of the Rainbow Bridge. But it was a very close thing. "Prongs," he mumbled, face green. "That was horrible."

"Pansy. Harry wasn't bothered by it in the slightest. In fact, he enjoyed it," Thor mocked.

"You may be getting old, Prongsie, but as you should have noticed, I'm not your son," Sirius replied testily, gulping in breaths of salty sea air.

"True. He's better looking than you are."

"He looks exactly like you!"

Thor smirked. "_Precisely."_

Sirius provided him with a rude hand gesture. "Why did we stop here, anyway?" he asked, straightening up.

"So I could walk you up, and you could have a look 'round Asgard city," Thor said.

Sirius duly looked, and was quickly absorbed. Asgard city, was a study in contrasts. Many of the larger, more important buildings, were indicative of, frankly, higher beings. Made of smooth golden metal, occasionally interspersed with silvery and coppery tones, and ornate, Norse style designs on the doors, all swirling lines and carefully etched runes, trees, warriors and animals. They were smooth in their angles and planes, with not a single visible flaw in their design. These had been designed by people who had long since turned it from a profession into an art. He mentioned this, though not in so many words. "Blimey, Prongs, these buildings are incredible!"

It is rare that Sirius Black is struck by architecture, but with architecture like this, it is not surprising.

Thor chuckled. "Like many things on Asgard, Sirius, architecture is not a profession, it is an art. We live so long, by mortal standards, that we have the time to practice many disciplines. And practice makes perfect."

"So I see," Sirius said, appreciatively eyeing up a few women. Since Thor had discreetly cast several cleaning charms and transfigured Sirius' clothes into respectable black robes, their looks were more thoughtful than disgusted, something partly based on the fact that he was in the presence of, and treated as a friend by, the Mighty Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard.

Thor followed his gaze and politely nodded. The women gasped and giggled, then started talking amongst themselves.

Sirius sighed. "I don't have a bloody chance," he complained.

"No. You're scrawny, you possibly have lice and you like you haven't seen sunlight for a decade," Thor said, then tossed his hair. "Me, on the other hand…"

"Yeah, yeah, you're royalty, a hero and handsome with it," Sirius mock grumbled. "No need to rub it in."

"And I have a girlfriend, so I'm not interested. Flattered, but not interested."

"… Could you put in a good word for me?"

"Give it a couple of months of good food and sunbathing. Then I'll consider it. My subjects have to have standards, you know."

"James?"

"Yes?"

"You're a dick sometimes."

"I live with my brother and Tony Stark and have had a millennium of practice. I'd be disappointed if I wasn't."

There was a moment of silence. Then, the two shared a look, and grinned.

"I've missed this, Padfoot."

"So have I, Prongs. So have I."

The walk up to the palace was uneventful. Sirius spent most of his time staring wide eyed at people – particularly women. Some things, Thor thought, did not change – and drinking in the sights and smells, particularly as they walked through a market. Seeing that Sirius was practically drooling and probably hadn't eaten properly for… well, unless you counted Azkaban, about twelve years, Thor briskly led him to some of the stalls.

Sirius watched as his best friend smiled, exchanged greetings and easily bantered with stall holders, acquiring a large open sandwich laden with smoked fish, a bowl of some sort of delicious smelling soup, a roll of soft, floury bread to go with it and a large, honey slathered thick pancake, signing a few invoices, presumably sending the bill up to the palace.

Afterwards, Sirius found himself being led further down, laden down with delicious smelling food, and led into a tavern, where Thor plonked him down at a table and went to the bar, and began to make his way through the crowd.

With nothing else to do, he started eating. Being ravenous and having an appetite that made a Labradors look reasonable, he got through the sandwich, the roll and two thirds of the bowl within a matter of three minutes.

Then, something large, hairy and smelling strongly of badly cured leather and sweat wandered over.

"Yer sittin' in my place."

It sounded like a small rockslide, and looked like a particularly disreputable and decrepit mountain, all brown and grey, with random lumps, rough bits, craggy features that could only have been formed by erosion or a blind drunken sculptor's apprentice with a chisel, with a couple of small, piggy, gleaming black eyes staring out of it. There were scars, lots of scars, and a complete lack of hair on the figures skull, which was more than made up for by the abundance of facial hair, which resembled a large, dark, rotting forest.

Sirius, having raised his soup bowl to his lips to finish it off, raised a solitary staving off finger, gulped it down, wiped his face somewhat clean, then said, "Actually, there wasn't anyone here when I sat down. No sign it was someone elses." He shrugged. "Looks like it's mine, now." To emphasise this point, he swung his feet up on to the bench opposite and smirked insouciantly.

The ambulatory mountain growled. Sirius growled back. His was better. He'd had more practice, and it showed, in a low, rumbling growl that got half the bar's attention.

The mountain hesitated, then his countenance darkened. "I'm not scared of yer, yer mangy wolf bastard!"

Then he swiped at Sirius, who leaned away, dodging the blow, grabbing the bowl as he did and flicking it at the enormous man's face. His hands went up to block the bowl, giving Sirius time to draw his wand and flick. Mr Mountain shot up into the air by his ankle and hung there. When he opened his mouth, Sirius flicked his wand again. A gag appeared.

"Now. I'm here with a friend. I call him James or Prongs, but you might know him better as Prince Thor," Sirius said casually, pausing to take a bite out of the honey covered pancake and savour it. "Mm-hm! The food here is great. Now, where was I? Oh yeah. I'm with Thor, and he left me here." Thor had, by now, acquired two beers and was making his way across.

Sirius waved. "Hi Thor!"

Thor raised his eyebrows for two reasons. One, Sirius was calling him Thor. Two, Sirius was talking with his mouthful, an unpleasant sight at the best of times.

The floating thug, who was now looking terrified, was sort of expected. Like Loki and Tony, Sirius had a supernatural capacity for chaos, and Thor had half expected to have to break up a large fight.

"Sirius… do I even want to know?"

"This fat bugger –"

The thug made an objecting noise.

Sirius poked him in the beer gut with his wand. "Oh shut up, you know it's true," he said, tone dismissive. "Anyway, he claimed I was sitting in his place. Then he attacked me. While I was eating, the fat dementor fucker!" This last part was distinctly indignant. Sirius had never been pleased when someone got between him and food.

Only now was Thor remembering Sirius' seemingly limitless capacity for creative profanity. Hopefully he could persuade him not to use it around Harry.

"Well, I'm sure you've shown him," Thor said, tone placatory. Then, slipping into his older speech patterns as he did, he moved his gaze to the thug. Who gulped. Which is quite a feat when you're upside down. "Listen well, scoundrel. This man is my friend and the actions he has taken against you are done so with my blessing. Indeed, they are far less harmful than you deserve for daring to attempt to strike one Thor calls friend and brother. Go. Begone from the city by tomorrow's nightfall. You are no longer welcome in Asgard's citadel." He glanced at Sirius. "Let him down."

Sirius, wolfing down the rest of his pancake at nauseating speeds while enjoying the free show, flicked his wand. The thug tumbled to the floor, gave Thor a fearful look, got up and ran out, stumbling as he did.

Thor glanced around the room and then at the barman. "A pint of ale for each man here, bar keeper. Send the bill to the palace."

"Do 'oo of'n do 'at?" Sirius asked, voice muffled by sticky pancake as a ragged cheer went up.

"Buy drinks for an entire bar?"

"'o. Fend –" Sirius began, then paused, swallowed, and said. "Do you often send bills up to the palace?"

"More often than not, if I am in the city. The amount is withdrawn from my… extensive private funds. Which are largely composed of allowances, gifts, bounties from defeating some villain or other, and income from the lands I officially hold," Thor said. "It is easier than just carrying a money pouch around." He paused. "And the fact I usually forget a money pouch is of course, coincidental."

Sirius smirked. "Sure it is, Prongs. Sure it is."

He paused. "That bloke called me a 'mangy wolf bastard' when I growled at him. What does that mean?"

"He mistook you for one of Hrimhari's subjects, the Wolf People – they are shapeshifters, capable of assuming wolven form, Asgardian form, and one halfway between the two at will. Some fear them for their powers," Thor said.

"So… like Asgardian werewolves?"

Thor shook his head. "They are born, not made. And they have full control of the transformations and themselves during the transformations," he explained.

"Do you think they could help Moony?"

"Maybe. We can only try."

From then on, the trip up to the palace went by without incident – if you ignored the part where Sirius made faces at the guards to see if they would move, leading Thor to sigh and drag him along.

The guards were impassive. They were well used to the weird behaviour of Prince Thor's friends, particularly his Midgardian ones.

A quick tour of the palace was interrupted. By Frigga.

"Thor!"

Sirius watched with interest as Thor's face creased into an open and guileless smile and he strode over to hug the decidedly gorgeous despite her years woman in the very nice and expensive dress.

"Mother, it is good to see that you are well," Thor said warmly, hugging her.

"And you too, my son," she said fondly. "Speaking of being well, how is my grandson? Who you have not brought to Asgard?" This last was said with a raised eyebrow and a tone that indicated that this state of affairs would be rectified soon, wouldn't it?

Sirius was impressed. In his experience, only Lily and Molly Weasley had ever been able to carry that sort of thing off. And this was borne out by Thor's reaction.

"Mother," he said, tone slightly long suffering. "Harry is still adjusting to being my son and even mortal high society. Asgard would be too much of a shock to his system."

The lady smiled, deeply amused. "Why, Thor, I thought your brother would be the protective father, shielding his child for the evils of noble lords and ladies," she teased.

Thor let out a chuffing sigh and muttered, "Is it wrong to care for him so?"

Her expression softened. "No. It is only natural and only right. And it is a sign that you are a good father, Thor."

Thor smiled.

"Now, introduce me to your handsome friend," Frigga said firmly.

Thor only then seemed to remember Sirius, who smirked at him.

"Sirius, this is my mother, Queen Frigga. So for Merlin's sake, Padfoot, _behave,_" Thor said, hissing the last part. "Mother, this is Sirius, my dear friend and Lord of the House of Black."

"Your majesty, it is my pleasure," Sirius said, bowing and kissing her hand. "Clearly James got all his good looks from you. When he's in his Thor form, anyway."

"You flatter me, Lord Black," Frigga said, smiling. "I am glad to meet one more of my son's Midgardian friends."

"Midgardian means human," Thor supplied and Sirius nodded his understanding.

"More?" he asked.

"I joined a superhero team, dedicated to protecting Earth," Thor explained. "They're called the Avengers and in many ways, they fill the hole that the Marauders left. You and Tony would get on like a house on fire. Chaos, screaming and massive property destruction are all but guaranteed."

"Sounds like a kindred spirit," Sirius said cheerfully.

"This is true," Thor said, sounding like he was already reconsidering the idea of introducing them.

Then a stunningly beautiful black haired woman in armour stepped out of a room off to one side. "My lady," she said politely, nodding to Frigga, who smiled.

"Hello Sif," Thor greeted her.

Sirius wolf-whistled. "_Hello_ gorgeous," he said.

Sif raised a solitary eyebrow at Thor, who gave her a decidedly James Potter-like smirk. "Bringing home strays again, Thor?" she asked dryly.

"What can I say, I took pity on him, fed him and now he's followed me home," Thor said casually.

Sirius pouted.

"Thor, are you sure introducing someone who you admit is a kindred spirit of Stark's to him is a good idea?" Sif said.

Thor shrugged. "Should be good for a laugh," he said. "And Stark tells me he has excellent insurance premiums, so he should be fine." He smiled slightly. "Odd. I actually get that sort of thing now, thanks to my regained memories." He paused. "Though I will never understand why a mobile communications device that is meant to be held to one's ear is called an 'I-phone'."

Sif chuckled, then bowed neatly. "The Lady Sif, at your service. The Warriors Three would be here," she said, glowering into the room and raising her voice to a battle shout. "IF THEY WEREN'T SO BUSY _CHECKING_ THEIR WEAPONS, _FLIRTING_ WITH THE MAIDS AND _EATING _HALF THE ROYAL PANTRY. _AGAIN!_"

There were scrambling noises from the room of frenzied activity and someone falling off a couch in response. She glanced at Frigga. "My apologies, my lady."

"Oh don't worry. Hogun, Fandral and Volstagg have always been this way and always will be. It's part of their strange yet undeniable charm," Frigga said casually, as the three warriors stepped out, Hogun with a calm serenity, Fandral primping his hair and Volstagg wiping his mouth and finishing a mouthful.

"Sirius," Thor said. "I would like to introduce you to some of my dearest friends and best companions – the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. The Lady Sif is the finest warrior you could hope to meet and a giver of wise counsel. A better friend I could not hope for. As for the Warriors Three, the one who isn't smiling is Hogun the Grim." Thor added in an undertone, "I have only seen him smile once. If you manage to make him smile, I will give you anything that can reasonably expected of me."

"So, not your secondborn?" Sirius asked in the same tone.

"No."

"Damn. All areas access to Lily's underwear drawer is out," Sirius said, trailing off as he looked speculatively at Sif, then quizzically at Thor.

"I wouldn't. It's where she keeps her knives… oh _bugger_," Thor said, abruptly aware that he'd walked into Sirius' trap, as Sirius began cackling and Sif skewered him with a glare.

"Tell me Thor, how do you know _that?_" Sif asked, voice icy. Frigga looked as amused as any mother will when her son has made a harmless yet hilarious verbal pratfall.

"Loki dared me to," Thor mumbled, wilting under the glare, and glowering at Sirius.

"Once a Marauder, Prongs, always a Marauder," Sirius said, smirking. "Now, carry on introducing me."

Thor grumbled then said, "the blonde one is Fandral the Dashing, and the one who resembles Hagrid with red hair is Volstagg the Voluminous. They are very good friends of mine."

"At your service," Fandral said, bowing. "Any friend of Thor's is a friend of ours."

Sirius bowed back. "Delighted to meet you." He glanced at Thor, then back at Fandral. He grinned.

"So, Fandral the Dashing, eh? I bet you're a hit with the ladies," he said, voice innocent.

"Well, I don't like to boast," Fandral began.

Sif rolled her eyes, Volstagg snorted and Hogun raised a sceptical eyebrow at this most _blatant_ of lies.

"But yes, I am," he said.

"But you haven't yet found one who has captured your heart?" Sirius asked, still innocently.

"No."

"And surely one with such charm, and who takes such care in his appearance should have one as breathtaking as he is, in both beauty and wit," Sirius said.

"Well," Fandral said. "That would be nice. What are you getting at? Know you of such a lady?"

"I am a wizard, Fandral, and a powerful one, as James – Thor - could tell you," Sirius said, drawing his wand. Thor nodded his agreement. "And my chief talent is conjuration. I can conjure up for you an image of your true love. All you need to do is close your eyes until I say."

Fandral looked excited, then a little suspicious. "This isn't going to end in me becoming something unpleasant, is it?" he asked suspiciously. One thousand or so years of Loki's friendship instilled certain survival instincts in even the thickest of skulls.

"I swear that no magic shall touch your person," Sirius said solemnly. "Close your eyes."

"Go on, Fandral," Volstagg said. "It's worth it."

Fandral hesitated.

"Imagine," Sirius said, voice hypnotic. "Beholding the love of your life with your very eyes. Imagine how enraptured you'll be. Imagine a great quest to find such a one, and a greater quest to woo the heart of this one. Imagine that, a story fit for the sagas of old, a story to make you _legend_."

"He's good," Frigga murmured.

"He's just getting started," Thor replied softly, smirking.

"Go on Fandral," Sif said, amused. "Unless you are not brave enough…"

"All right, all right," Fandral said. "I'll do it." He shut his eyes.

Sirius waved his wand. "Open your eyes and behold your true love."

Fandral opened his eyes, wide with anticipation… and saw himself. Or more accurately, a mirror. His jaw hung loose with shock.

Volstagg cracked up, and Sif was outright laughing. And Hogun was grinning.

Sirius grinned at Thor. "Gotcha Prongs," he said gleefully. "You owe me."

Thor sighed and prepared for humiliation. "What?" he asked.

"Well… nothing yet. I think I need to consult with this Tony Stark, your brother and your son… and maybe the Lady Sif has a few suggestions?" Sirius said cheerfully. "And the Warriors Three too? And your mother?"

"One or two, Lord Black," Sif said, smirking. "One or two."

"Lady Sif, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Indeed," Fandral said, having recovered from his shock, and being glad that the spotlight was turning to someone else. "A thousand years of stalwart friendship and adventuring has provided us with much… what is the Midgardian turn of phrase? Oh yes. _Blackmail material_."

Volstagg grinned. Hogun grinned like a shark.

Frigga looked regally amused. "I'm sure that motherhood has given me certain insights that would prove useful," she said mildly.

Sirius looked like he'd just hit the jackpot.

Thor gulped. He was already beginning to think that this was a _very _bad idea.

Rescue came in the form of his father, though if he had known it, Odin would probably have added a regal contribution to the teasing. Let it not be said that the Allfather does not have a sense of humour. How else would one survive children like Thor and Loki with mind intact?

"Thor," he greeted, accepting a kiss from his wife.

"Father," Thor said, tone respectful. Sif and the Warriors Three all went down on one knee. Sirius, opting for the safe option, made a deep bow, then started staring at Odin's golden eyepatch.

"Rise," he said. "Thor, introduce me to your friend."

"Of course, father. Sirius, this my father, Odin, Lord and Allfather of Asgard," Thor said. "Father, this Lord Sirius of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, one of my truest and noblest friends."

"Hi," Sirius said cheerfully. He paused. "That's a very big eyepatch. Shiny, too. Presumably you must have spares… of course, you do, you're a king. Still, it is very impressive, just the right size for a King. It must be carefully polished, certainly…"

Thor was looking utterly horrified. The Warriors Three were sniggering at the double entendres under their collective breath – or rather, Fandral and Volstagg were. Hogun was half dismayed, half amused, by what little could be told from his expression. Sif was giving Thor a look that said 'you do realise that this man is a raving lunatic, don't you?'

Odin himself had crooked a regal eyebrow, while Frigga covered her mouth to hide her smile.

"Father, I beg you forgive him, he has spent the last twelve years in a terrible prison for a crime he did not commit," Thor said hastily. "It, I think, has left him a little unhinged." He sighed. "Though that is not quite correct. I am not entirely sure he was entirely sane in the first place. He didn't mean any offence."

"Oh, I think he did. He was testing me, to see what I would do, while trusting to you to protect him and minimise the risk," Odin said, eyeing Sirius carefully. Sirius replied with a carefully amiable and innocent smile. "I have seen that tactic in two others, Lord Black. My other son, Loki, and Mister Stark. It requires a certain audacity, and makes me wonder if you aren't all somehow related."

"That would make a lot of sense," Thor muttered.

"Guilty as charged, your majesty," Sirius said, grinning.

"Did I pass?" Odin asked dryly.

"With flying colours, your majesty. You're only the second person to pick up on it," Sirius said, smirking, and Thor was abruptly reminded that Sirius only _acted _like he was an idiot and that he would have made a very good Slytherin.

"Since you are adopted kin to my grandson, Lord Black, you may call me Odin in private," Odin said, tones indicating that this was a privilege, not a right.

"And you can call me Sirius."

"He also answers to Padfoot, Fido and Dinner," Thor snarked.

The rest stared at him, amused, but not quite sure what to make of this. Sirius, on the other hand, let out a loud bark of laughter. "And he comes out swinging!" he cried, then gave Thor a sharp, shrewd look. "Are there two of you in there, or what?"

Thor shook his head. "James is me as I am James. We are one and the same. I am still integrating parts of his personality and habits into my own," he explained. "That is why I sometimes seem to switch between the two."

"What?" Fandral mumbled to himself, confused.

Volstagg shrugged.

"The original intention was to integrate the two over time," Odin said. His expression darkened. "But a traitor and his master put paid to that."

Sirius growled, long and low. "When I get hold of Peter… I'm not sure what I'll do, but it'll be slow and painful. _Very _slow and painful." He glanced around. "I know you lot will want him, and that's fine. I just want ten minutes alone with him in a darkened room first."

That got a few approving nods. While Asgard did not condone torture as part of the judicial process, this came under a blood feud. And blood feuds were a different matter _entirely_.

"Sif, why don't you, Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun show Sirius around the Palace and get to know him?" Frigga suggested. "I and my husband wish to speak to our son about our grandson."

Thor looked dubious as the group obediently trooped off, Sirius striking up conversation with the rest. "Are you really sure it is wise leaving those five alone?"

"Sif will restrain them, I am sure," Frigga said serenely.

"Mother, you do not know Sirius."

"The palace survived over a millennium of you and your brother, and the visit of Mister Stark and Doctor Banner. I am sure it will surive Lord Black," Odin said firmly.

Thor's expression was sceptical to put it mildly.

"Now, why have we not met our grandson yet?"

Thor sighed and launched into a round of explanations, all the while wondering what mischief Sirius was causing.

And sooner rather than later, he got his answer when he found Fandral and Volstagg giggling, Sif rolling her eyes and Hogun pretending to sleep standing up so as not to be associated with the two idiots. Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

"Thor, Thor, Sirius has introduced us to a wonderful concept!" Volstagg cried.

Thor got a sudden feeling of intense foreboding.

"Yes, it is a noble quest that braves the deadliest dangers in the Nine Realms," Fandral said.

"What is it?" Thor asked.

Hogun provided the answer in his own, succinct fashion without even opening his eyes. "Panty Raid."

Thor groaned. "Who?"

There was a sudden dopplering scream and the sound of approaching footsteps from around the corner. A bolt of magical energy slammed into the wall, blowing a crater in it.

"JAAAAMMMMEESSSS! HEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLP!"

"GET BACK HERE YOU THIEF! AMORA COMMANDS YOU!"

"Oh no," Thor said. He sighed, striding towards the corner. "I'd better go and save him."

"EXECUTIONER! CLEAVE HIM IN TWAIN!"

Sirius came haring around the corner, followed closely by Skurge the Executioner. Skurge was a gigantic man, a full seven feet tall, and vast muscles moved like breaching whales under his skin. His skin was dusky pale colour, his eyes were blue and currently murderous, and what hair he had that was not shaved off was black. He was one of Asgard's most formidable warriors and hopelessly in love with Amora the Enchantress, whose panty draw Sirius had raided.

Skurge was considered to be second only to Thor in strength in all of Asgard, with the possible exception of Vidar. But he was second for a reason, and he slowed as Sirius scrambled behind Thor, who set himself and hefted Mjolnir. Not only that, but Sif and the Warriors Three had moved to place themselves between him and Sirius.

"Hold, Skurge! What is the meaning of this? This man you pursue is my close friend and honoured guest, and adopted kin to my son," Thor demanded.

"He has offended my Lady Amora," Skurge growled. "Stand aside, Lord Prince."

"No."

"Skurge? Is he dead yet?" Amora asked, tones irate as she came around the corner. With ash blonde hair and leaf green eyes and a figure that men had literally died for, she was as beautiful as sin. And just as deadly, with her skills at manipulation and her vast magical power. She was Skurge's puppet mistress. He would do anything for her and she took full advantage. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't interested. Not when the Mighty Thor had caught her eye.

As soon as she caught sight of Thor, she smiled winsomely. "Thor, my love. Are you well?"

"As well as can be expected," Thor said curtly. "Call off your attack dog before the Palace has a new Executioner shaped window."

Amora laughed. It was a tinkling sound that put one in mind of silver bells and glass that was just on the point of smashing into lots of sharp and deadly pieces. "Your Midgardian side is shining through, my love," she teased. "It is… adorably quaint."

"I am not your love, Amora. And never will be again."

"Again?" Sirius asked curiously.

"I and Lord Thor were once lovers, thief," Amora said, wicked amusement colouring her tone.

Sirius looked her up and down. "I can see why," he drawled.

"See, Lord Thor? Even the thief cannot deny my beauty, which is rather greater than that of that mousy mortal you are carrying on with," Amora said lightly, tone triumphant.

"I do not deny that you are beautiful, Amora. I am just not interested," Thor said coldly. "And mind your tongue when it strays into matters concerning Jane. Or the Palace will have two new windows."

Amora blinked. Up until now, Thor had been of the 'wouldn't hit a girl' type. James, however, had fought a lot of female Death Eaters and was something of a pragmatist. "My love…"

He gave her a cold look. "We were lovers once, yes. I was young. I was stupid. I made mistakes. And you were one of the biggest, Amora."

Before Amora could say another word, Sirius interjected.

"Actually, I was _going_ to say you remind me of my cousin Narcissa: a prissy, self obsessed bitch who's more than happy to open her legs to any man who she thinks is useful," he drawled.

Amora went white with rage and conjured a bolt of spell-flame. But before she could launch it, Thor hefted Mjolnir, and a sudden gust of wind sent her stumbling back, snuffing out the bolt. It also ruined her hairdo. Which was only made worse when the James side of Thor decided to ionize the air around her with a little localised lightning. Her hair stood on end.

"Why Amora, what a _daring _hair style you are wearing today," Sif said, smirking as Sirius and the Warriors Three cracked up laughing. "All I have to ask is this – did you consciously imitate a hedge-pig or did it just end up like that?"

Amora frowned, conjured a mirror, stared for a moment and shrieked. Horribly.

Skurge hefted his axe.

"Don't even think about it," Thor said sharply. "If you want a duel, I will give you one. But not now. _Leave._"

He paused and glanced at Sirius. "Sirius. Give them back."

Sirius pouted. "Spoils of war?"

Thor glared.

Sirius sighed. "Fine. When did you become so responsible?"

"That is a complicated question," Thor remarked. "With many answers."

Sirius grunted and, pulling the lacy green arrangement out of his pocket, levitated them over. "I've seen better," he muttered under his breath.

Amora's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Instead, she snatched them out of the air and stalked off, doubtless planning vengeance.

Sirius broke the silence. "She's not like Narcissa. More an unholy blend of Narcissa and Bellatrix."

Thor found himself agreeing.

**And another chapter is over. Do not worry, fans, from now on it should be decidedly Harry centric. And the plot will pick up a bit. Please review, 'cos, you know, I live on them. **


	14. Chapter 14: Revelations

**Two chapters in four days. Aren't you people ridiculously lucky? :P Please show your appreciation by reviewing.**

**Quick note: the Arab Spring came several years early due to a number of factors, a lot of them tying back to Iron Man's interventions in Afghanistan and the Middle East, the return of Captain America and the battle of New York. And Facebook, Youtube and Twitter were also invented early. Actually… for the aid of comprehension, imagine it's the present day, just set in 2006. The dates will be somewhat important later on, but not of world shattering significance.**

'**One more day': Yeah. I have read that crappy comic. And, as Nick Fury would say, "Since it is a stupid-ass comic, I have elected to ignore it."**

**SeanHicks4: I know, in mythology, Odin is God of Magic. However, this is based off Marvel Canon, where Loki is very explicitly the God of Magic. War is very much an Asgardian thing in general, yes…**

**Newboy: dear god, you write long reviews. Well, not complaining, but seriously, get an account, this will be made so much easier.**

**He may have cultivated some allies, but not many. One, Europe still remembers Grindelwald. It's like why Neo-Nazism is come down on particularly hard in Central Europe. Two, Dumbledore is extremely well respected. Three, Voldemort's main concern is the pursuit of dark magics and the creation of horcruxes. He's not looking to build an army as of yet.**

**There is a long history of foreigners joining radical and revolutionary movements because they like the ideas behind them. Karkaroff and possibly Dolohov were the only two non-British Death Eaters.**

**Or they just didn't want to believe him and saw the chance to step out from under his shadow. Besides, who do you want to support – the ancient and deeply eccentric wizard who has held sway over Europe for half a century who is spouting off about the claims of some disturbed teenager as if they are gospel, or a powerful government that dismisses them as scaremongering.**

**He may have been skilled at it, that doesn't mean it interested him. And as Che Guevara could tell you, there is a difference between blowing up trains and making sure they run on time.**

**He didn't have to declare himself to rule. All he needed to do was constantly brief Thicknesse. Instead, what he does is tell him the basic outline of what he wants and lets him and the Death Eaters go to town. He wants people to think the same way he does and to be immortal. Again, as above, I doubt he cares about making the trains run on time. That's what underlings are for. Besides, his return has been publicly acknowledged. Harry is a focal point for resistance. He loses nothing by declaring himself. And by the end, he was not exactly renowned for his patience.**

**I think it was something that a lot of the world had moved past. Magical Britain is a fairly monolithic and isolated society. I doubt that the rest of the world is the same.**

**I do not doubt he is one of the most evil and depraved and personally dangerous. However, I could make you a **_**very**_** long list of villains more generally dangerous, and personally dangerous too. For one of them, try looking up Nicodemus Archleone from the Dresden Files, who basically is what Voldemort wishes he was.**

**No problem. **

Harry disappeared on a regular basis, over the following few days, and it took some considerable effort to find him on the part of Ron and Hermione. Until that is, Fred and George decided to show their little brother and fellow apprentice some kindness and produced a map. A very particular map.

"With this," Fred said.

"We can see –"

"Everyone –"

"In the school –"

"Is. At all times."

"Why did you never tell me?" Ron complained, eyes wide. "I'm your brother."

"Well, brother dearest –"

"We have to have –"

"Some secrets."

Ron scowled at them.

"Fred, George, this map could be immensely dangerous! What if a dark wizard got hold of it?" Hermione demanded. "You should turn it in to Professor McGonagall at once."

"Yeah."

"Not happening."

"Which?" Hermione asked, eyes narrowed.

"Either of the above," both twins said in unison.

"Besides, Hermione –"

"We're giving it –"

"To its rightful owner –"

"Soon."

"Oh? And who might that be?" Hermione asked, hands on hips.

"Harry, of course."

"Why would it be his?" Ron asked, confused.

"Because his dad made it," Fred said cheerfully.

"Along with the rest of the Marauders."

"Harry's dad was a Marauder?" Ron asked, eyes wide.

"Yup. He was Prongs."

"Told us himself."

"That's the only way –"

"He could have known about the map."

"Besides, Hermione –"

"It's password protected –"

"And only shows its password –"

"If it likes you."

"And it's pretty clever."

"It decided it liked us."

"So that's how we know it," they finished, in disturbing unison.

Hermione opened her mouth to object, but Ron overrode her. "Weren't we going to look for Harry?"

"Oh, right, yes," Hermione said, a little distracted. She glared at the twins. "This isn't over, you know."

"Sure it isn't," they drawled.

Hermione huffed, but otherwise said nothing.

Harry was, in fact, at the top of the Astronomy Tower with a telescope, intently training it on the night sky.

"Harry?" Hermione said.

Harry turned and smiled. He was wrapped up warm, wearing thick jeans and a large amount of Avengers memorabilia. Thor themed hoodie. It featured the God of Thunder in full armour, thrusting his glowing hammer skyward as lightning forked around him, while wearing a particularly heroic expression that, as many such expressions do, made him look vaguely constipated. He was also wearing an emerald green scarf with the words 'Hulk Smash!' embroidered in white on it, two gold and red gloves with blue-white circles on the palms – Iron Mitts, as Tony had taken to calling them – and a beanie hat in green and gold with the words, 'I aim to misbehave', written around the brim and a chibi style Loki on the front.

One might wonder where merchandise for the other two Avengers was. The answer was that his belt had a SHIELD insignia buckle. Even in merchandising, for spies, old habits die hard.

"Oh, hi guys," he said, cheerfully, cheeks red with cold. But his glasses covered eyes were dancing with excitement as the waxing moon reflected off them.

"What are you doing up here, Harry? Curfew's in five minutes!" Hermione admonished.

"I was looking at Asgard," Harry said.

"Harry… Asgard's in another dimension," Hermione said slowly. "You can't see it through a telescope."

Harry grinned. "That's what I thought. Then Jane explained to me that while Asgard was in another dimension, like all the other eight realms, the portals between realms used to be always open. Basically, Asgard and the other realms were like bubbles attached to our universe, right?"

Hermione nodded, fascinated.

"Well, eventually they were sealed off, and you _had_ to use the Bifrost to get from realm to realm. Before, it was just quicker and easier, like apparating somewhere instead of walking," Harry continued. "And since they were so far away, they're still visible through Hubble… and, since Asgard is so bright, from here." He stepped away from the telescope and grinned. "Look for yourself."

Hermione obligingly looked, and after a moment, gasped. "Whoa," she breathed.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Harry said.

"Not impressive, amazing! We're looking at a different _dimension!_" Hermione breathed, sounding utterly entranced.

"And I'm from there. Or half of me is. Hermione, guys, I'm not even from this _universe_," Harry said slowly.

"A lot to take in, huh?" Ron said, looking sympathetic. He couldn't really imagine being so… _different _from the people around him. Except when he had gone to Avengers Tower and New York, being astounded by, for once, being in the minority. Still, it wasn't something he'd had much experience with.

Harry nodded heavily. "I mean, I was fine with magic. Magic was, and is, amazing, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He paused, an expression flitted across his face, then he added, quietly, "Make that almost anything."

"What would you trade _magic _for?" Ron asked, astounded.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, turning away from the telescope.

"What?"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically. "His mother," she hissed.

"Oh. _Oooh._ Right, sorry mate. I can understand that," Ron said.

Harry nodded vaguely. "Right," he said, then stripped off a glove and examined his hand, as if he expected it to catch fire, or shoot webbing at any moment. "I mean… being a wizard was one thing. I wasn't a freak, I had an explanation for why I could do all the weird stuff. But I was still human. Now…"

He trailed off.

"Now, half of me isn't and never has been human. Do they even let half-humans into Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Hermione said, before anyone else could answer. "In _Hogwarts: A History_, it stipulates that students must be at least half human. There have been students that were half giant, half goblin and even half faerie – though I think that last was something else, because the only fairies that exist are the ones in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_."

Suddenly, the wind whistled around them, and just for a moment, it sounded like the sound leaves would make if they could laugh.

They all shivered. And with good reason, not just because it was cold. Because Hermione was dead wrong about the Fae. Not that she knew it.

"Anyway, Harry, even if that wasn't true, half the Wizarding World worships your uncle. And your dad too. You're not going to get kicked out of Hogwarts," Hermione said.

"Yeah, Harry –"

"Dumbledore would –"

"Never allow it."

"And no one crosses Dumbledore," Ron added.

"Exactly," the twins agreed, clapping Ron on the shoulders. They paused. "Except for…"

"Our esteemed lord and master?"

"Indeed."

Harry snorted. "_No one_ crosses Uncle Loki."

Having seen him in action, he could well say that no matter how powerful Dumbledore was – and from what Loki and Steve had said, his powers were vast, ranking him in the top ten known superhumans on the planet – Loki was a cut or ten above. One did not become god of magic by collecting bottle caps, and from what little had been revealed, his reservoirs of power were nothing short of incredible.

It had taken twenty years to build Durmstrang, wards and all. Loki had built Hogwarts. It had taken around twenty minutes. Wards and all.

Harry sighed. "I wasn't worried about being cut off from Hogwarts." Well, actually, he had, just a tiny bit, but he wasn't going to mention that. "I was worried…"

"About what?" Hermione asked.

"About being different. It's bad enough being 'the Boy-Who-Lived' and all that trouble with being a Parseltongue last year," Harry said, slumping against the battlements. "It made me… different. And I don't want to be different, I don't want to be the freak that everyone points out and whispers about, I just want… I just want to be _me_. To be Harry."

"It bothers you that much?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Harry nodded, looking a bit miserable. "I mean, look at my dad and my uncle, they're over a thousand years old and don't look a day over twenty five. My granddad is at least five thousand years old. _Five thousand._ At _least._" He looked sadly at them all. "Chances are, I'm going to outlive you all."

That was indeed a sobering thought. Then Hermione spoke, reciting from memory.

"'_I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die?'"_

She looked at Harry. "Shylock, in the _Merchant of Venice._ It's a Shakespeare play, and the thing about Shakespeare… the thing about Shakespeare is that he knew people. He understood them on a very fundamental level. And what he's saying here is that in the end, you're still like us. Asgardians eat, drink, sleep, get ill, even die. Look at your dad. He behaves just like, well, an ordinary human." She paused. "If you ignore his complete inability to use the microwave."

That startled a laugh out of Harry.

"And you're still half human, anyway, even if that still bothers you."

"Yeah, mate. To us, you're still Harry. Our friend. Nothing's really changed," Ron said. He grinned. "If you'd changed that much, you wouldn't be moping about for no good reason, would you?"

That got another laugh, this one rueful, from Harry. "You're right," he said, and yawned. "And that's me being human and needing some sleep."

Hermione's hands suddenly flew to her mouth. "Oh my god! It's ages past curfew."

"Ah, Hermione dearest –"

"Aren't you forgetting?"

"We have the Marauders map."

Harry's head turned sharply. "The _what _map?"

* * *

"The Marauders Map," Sirius said, grinning. "The secret to our success."

"So," Tony said, "You're saying that when you guys were… fifteen, sixteen?"

Sirius nodded. They were sitting in the general living room of the Penthouse of Avengers Tower. Sirius had arrived a few days ago after he had left Asgard due to one prank too many. This prank had involved itching powder in certain people's garments. Amora and the Executioner had been two major victims, but could not claim that it affected only them, as very few escaped.

Odin had been targeted – but not his wife - but as he himself had noted, he was the man who had raised Loki and Thor. A few stern looks and a lecture were all that resulted, but Odin had recommended Sirius be removed from Asgard before Amora or the Executioner removed him from life.

Sirius had been moved to the Tower, and had spent the last few days sampling Tony's scotch, flirting with Pepper – until Tony started twitching and Pepper gently let him down – Natasha – who raised a silent eyebrow, then said that she was too old for him in a deadpan tone of voice that could have been a truth or a lie – and Darcy, who had flirted back enthusiastically, on the justification that once they'd got him fattened up and healthy again, he would be 'a total hottie'. It helped that he no longer looked like an underfed scarecrow thanks to a lot of good Asgardian food and the ministrations of Asgards finest healers. Now, he merely looked a bit malnourished, something that was changing fast.

He and Tony had, predictably and to Thor and Steve's worry, got on like a house on fire. The fact Loki also got on with him went without saying.

"You managed to create a map that was password protected, had a intelligent security system that responded to attempted intrusions and could track anyone and everyone who was in the building. And didn't need to be updated," Tony said, tone half awed, half disbelieving.

"And this was in _1989. _At the _latest_."

"Yup."

Tony pouted, as if annoyed that he hadn't created something similar at that age.

"Oh, don't pout, Tony," Loki said, wandering through with three mugs of coffee, causing both Tony and Sirius to perk up. "Hogwarts is deeply magical and sentient. Think of her as something like a magical JARVIS, but without the ability to communicate and manipulate her environment to any great extent. She liked them and consequently gave them a few nudges in the right direction. After that, all they had to do was tap into her ambient magic and wards. The map is essentially conduit to Hogwarts, if you will, a smaller thing connected to the greater whole."

"Sort of like JARVIS in my suits," Tony said. "Right?"

"Very like," Loki said, then a wicked smile crossed his face. "You know that Hogwarts expressed some considerable interest in JARVIS? She has never come across a genius loci like herself."

"Genius what?"

"A spirit that's tied to a particular place," Sirius explained.

"JARVIS is an AI, not a spirit."

"A disembodied intelligence. The fact that he happens to live in circuitry rather than stone and mortar is an academic difference," Loki said, tone dismissive. The smirk returned. "Why, Tony, if I did not mistake her feelings, she harbours… what is the phrase? Oh yes. A crush. On JARVIS."

Tony stared at him, jaw hanging loose. "JARVIS? What do you think of this?"

"I think that I would like to communicate with Hogwarts, sir, if Loki is able to facilitate such a thing. It would be pleasant to converse with a being who has similar experiences to myself," JARVIS said.

"… Did you just ask Loki to set you up on a date with a sentient castle?"

JARVIS' tones were pleased, but a little embarrassed. "I believe I did, sir. It is only polite to inquire with her creator first."

Sirius was grinning. "So, Tony," he said, in the tones of a practiced shit stirrer. "Your 'son' is going on a date with Loki's 'daughter'. How do you feel?"

Tony looked at his empty glass, as if willing it to fill. Unfortunately, Tony's many talents did not extend to Alcokinesis. "I need another drink."

Loki started laughing, a rich, resonant tenor laugh that echoed through the Tower, then snapped his fingers. Tony's glass was abruptly full of scotch. While Tony's talents did not extend to Alcokinesis, Loki's extended a lot further.

At that moment, Thor entered the room, followed by Pepper, and Tony spotted an opportunity to change the subject.

"So, Thor, how was Harry conceived?" he asked. Thor nearly choked on his drink. Loki nearly choked as well, because he'd started laughing.

"The normal way, or so I'd imagine," Pepper said, giving Tony a quelling look, which he ignored.

"Tell him, brother, or I will," Loki said.

Thor stared at him. "You were watching?" he cried in shock, horror and mostly, embarrassment.

"No, I was keeping an eye on you, then vacated the area when clothes started being ripped," Loki said mildly.

"Ripped clothes?" Clint asked, wandering over. "I have to hear this."

Bruce had paused by the door and Darcy and Jane had entered the room, the former grinning, the latter curious, followed by Natasha. "Trust me," Sirius said. "You should hear it."

Thor looked somewhat beleaguered and noticed that all the Avengers and their associates were gravitating to him as if summoned.

"Go on," Tony urged.

"He doesn't have to," Pepper said.

"Then I'll just have to imagine it," Tony said, tone somewhat petulant.

Thor paled. This prospect was worse. By far. He sighed. "Fine. Lily and I were dressing up for a Halloween party. She was going as a sexy witch -"

Sirius hummed his agreement. "Fantastic breasts," he said dreamily, then yelped as Natasha clipped him round the head.

"You deserved that," Thor said mildly.

"Meh," Sirius replied, shrugging.

"And I hadn't changed, saying," Thor began. He sighed. "That I was a sexy wizard."

Tony wolfwhistled and Darcy nodded. "You were one nice piece of salty goodness," she said.

"And then... since my shirt was old and thin, Lily... tore it off. And, well... we never got to the party," Thor muttered.

Tony and Clint were laughing. Sirius was grinning. "Those two were at it like rabbits," he said. "Not unlike him and Jane, when they hit their stride."

"Seriously?" Darcy asked, looking at her more studious friend in a new light, while said studious friend looked out the window, blushing slightly and seemed to be trying to distract herself by reciting Pi.

Sirius nodded. "Every single night and my room is next door. I hear everything. _Everything_."

Clint winced. "Hard luck."

"How many orgasms per night?" Tony asked, absently ducking a swat from Pepper.

"And what's the ratio from Jane's orgasms to Thor's, because it had better be _at least_ fifty fifty," Darcy added.

Sirius sat back with the gleeful expression of a man who has just found that he is sitting on a goldmine of embarrassing information and blackmail material and is going to milk it for all it is worth.

In summation, it was fortunate that Thor was not easily embarrassed. It was unfortunate that Sirius was very good at embarrassing people.

* * *

_Who are the Avengers?_

_The Age of the Superhero: how the advent of superheroes has changed the world forever_

'_More things in heaven and earth': a study of the implications of the Chitauri invasion _

_Reaching for the Heavens: How Doctor Jane Foster is building a road to the Realm Eternal_

_Earth's Mightiest Heroes: Our Defenders_

_O Captain, My Captain: What we know about the new Captain America_

_America Rules The Waves (And Everything Else): how the Avengers give America influence not seen since the fall of the British Empire0_

_Who are S.H.I.E.L.D?_

_The New Paradigm_

_Bows and Bullets: analysis of who Hawkeye and Black Widow are and who they work for_

_The Man in the Iron Mask: the new Tony Stark_

_Power Behind the Throne no more: Potts steps out of Stark's shadow in style_

_Iron Men: Stark and Rhodes blaze a trail across the globe_

_Mysteries of the Cold War: Who Was the Winter Soldier?_

_Licensed to Kill: the War Machine gets his hands dirty in Libya_

_Revealed! Former Circus trickshot archer Clint Barton the secret identity of Hawkeye_

_Gadaffi Grabbed: Avengers collar North African Dictator_

_The Avengers and the Arab Spring: Dictatorships drop like dominos following intervention in Libya_

_Pax Avengers: Who dares cross the new power players in global politics?_

_The Mandarin: a response to the Avengers?_

_A SHIELD or a HAMMER? Who commands the Avengers and to what purpose?_

_Cry Havoc And Let Slip the Avengers_

_Heroes Without Borders: 'the Avengers are not part of the US Armed Forces' states US Secretary of Defence_

_The 21__st__ Century: This is when everything changes_

_A Rainbow Bridge: Jane Foster opens the gates to a wider universe_

_Under the Star Spangled Suit: Who is the new Captain America?_

_The Invincible Iron Man: Stark goes from strength to strength following the Chitauri invasion_

_Gods, Monsters and Men of Magic_

_A New World in My View_

_Gods Among Us: the Mighty Thor speaks out _

_Controversy abounds as Loki joins Avengers 'as probationary member'_

_A Nefarious Shadow: the Italian Count who is taking over Europe_

_The Magnificent Seven: the Avengers crush criminal Count in Roman Coliseum _

_Nefaria by name, nefarious by nature: how the Avengers defeated the apparently unstoppable superhuman aristocrat_

_Clash of the Titans: Hulk and Thor take on the mysterious Juggernaut in earthshaking duel_

_The Could Have Been King: Loki talks New York, the Chitauri, regret and redemption_

'_I have red in my ledger. And I want to rub it out': Loki on his change of heart and journey from supervillain to superhero_

_Demigods among us: who is the mysterious Thorson?_

_Asgard's Secret: Who is the Mother of Thor's son and where is she now?_

_Europe's Strong Man: the inexorable rise of Victor Von Doom_

_Latveria Experiences Economic Surge_

_Spate of attacks across Europe spark fears of HYDRA's return_

Fury idly ran his eye over the collection of newspapers, magazines and periodicals that chronicled the exploits and reactions to those exploits of the Avengers. The reactions had been wide and varied. Some reacted with fear, some with hope and some with glee.

Of course, he hadn't collected these for fun. No, they were homework. Good thing the person they were for was a fast reader. Pity there hadn't been more good stuff on Captain America. Most of it was how he was the father of some random fame seeker's baby or having a gay affair with Tony Stark. Fury snorted. Like that was ever going to happen.

A tall, lean caucasian man apparently in early middle age walked into the room. His hair was black, his temples were white, and a small smile adorned his lips.

"How's he doing, Doctor?" Fury asked.

The smile faded. "The same as ever. I've told you, Nicholas, he'll wake when he's ready."

"Well, that had better be soon," Fury said.

The Doctor eyed him. "Oh?"

Fury nodded. He knew he could trust this man. "An old Soviet installation that can be traced back to the Red Room was ransacked recently. My informants in Gringotts tell me that money is moving around the old pureblood accounts. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have been appearing on the European Wizarding Society circuit a lot more recently. Not only that, but a three of my best agents went missing. We found them, torn to shreds. They died on the night of the full moon," he said. He folded his arms. "Something is going on, and the old Death Eaters are at the heart of it. Forgive me for wanting my good eye back to keep an eye on them."

"The Red Room… Russian super soldier and spy program, correct?"

"That is so, Doctor."

"That is bad," the unnamed Doctor murmured. "Omega Red, one of the later Black Widows, Red Guardian…" he paused. "You're not afraid of them."

"Worst comes to the worst, I'll sic Logan on Omega Red and Barton and Romanov on the Widow. The old Guardian, Shostakov, is not an issue. I killed him myself," Fury said, and shook his head. "Damn shame. Man would have been a good Agent." He glanced at his conversation partner. "No. I'm not afraid of them."

"What about… _him_?"

Fury was silent for a long time. He knew who was being referred to. "Anyone who is not afraid of that man is a fool, and fools don't stand a chance against someone like him," he said eventually. "There are four people in the world good enough to beat him at his own game. Three of them are on the Avengers. But I'm not sure how highly I'd rate their chances."

"That's where the Shadow Initiative comes in."

Fury whipped around sharply. The man smiled. Fury shook his head. "You're dangerous, Strange. Very dangerous."

"And on your side."

Fury snorted. "No you aren't. You're on your own side. That side just happens be next to mine for now." He glanced at the other man. "You gonna come out of hiding any time soon?"

"Not yet. It is not my time."

"Well, you know yourself best," Fury said, knowing that it wasn't worth pushing the man.

"Indeed… oh, and Nicholas?"

"Yes?"

"Send Clint Barton to Hogwarts. Soon. Also, please give my regards to the _other _Nicholas. And his lovely wife too."

"I'd ask how you know about that, but I'd just get some cryptic bullshit for answer, right?"

The man chuckled. "Now you're getting it," he said. He disappeared slowly, leaving behind nothing but the smile.

Fury rolled his eyes. "Jackass always has to have the last word," he muttered. He looked over at the single bed and its single occupant. Machines beeped and hissed. "I hope you wake up soon," he said. "Because I'm going to need my good eye for what's coming next."

* * *

It was the day before the penultimate day of term, and Harry was wandering towards the Common Room when he was suddenly flanked by Fred and George.

"Ah, Harry!"

"Just the demigod we wanted to see."

"We have a proposition for you."

While Harry had not been hanging around with the Avengers for long, there is something about Tony Stark that is infectious. "Sorry guys. But you really aren't my type."

Both twins looked half offended, half amused.

"Harry, Harry –"

"Harry."

"We weren't talking about _that_."

"We were talking about a _prank._"

Harry perked up.

"Any ideas?"

Harry looked thoughtful. Ever since he'd discovered that he was the son of one of the infamous Marauders, he'd felt… urges. To cause chaos. Of course, being the nephew and apprentice of the God of Mischief helped in that regard.

"It has to be big," he said slowly. "_Really _big. Marauders scale. And Christmas themed." He rubbed his chin. "So… ice. Lots and lots of ice."

"Maybe ice skating," Ron suggested, having caught up with the three. "Like on the pond at home."

"Students ice skating?" Harry asked.

The Twins shook their heads. "No…" Then they looked at each other and grinned.

"I think –"

"That we –"

"Can do better –"

"Than that."

Ron and Harry shared looks. Ron looked a little nervous. Harry was grinning.

"Do tell," he said.

"Well," Fred began. "It's like this…"

And so, the next morning dawned, and as students filed down to breakfast, they noticed certain suits of armour were missing. When they got to breakfast, they found that the House Tables had been arranged so that there was a large open space in the middle of the Great Hall. And it was covered in ice. There were convenient signs saying 'Don't Step on the ice', enforced by banishing charms. Most of the teachers looked suspicious. Professor Lupin was hiding a small smile. Professor Dumbledore looked like he couldn't wait for the fun to begin. Loki was outright smirking, being present because he had given his four apprentices a lesson on wandless magic the previous evening and decided to stay overnight, before hopping over to the nearby airport to play taxi for the Avengers when they arrived the next day.

Then, as everyone had sat down, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open, and a large group of suits of armour came charging in. The first noticeable thing about them was that they had been clothed in stereotypical medieval Lincoln green clothing, with very tight tights on their legs and their helmets had been transfigured. Into hats. With feathers in.

The second noticeable thing was that they were all carrying bows and quivers full of sucker arrows.

The third noticeable thing was that as soon as they stepped onto the ice, their boots turned into ice skates.

They skated, in perfect formation, to the middle of the hall, where they all bowed. Meanwhile, JARVIS' scrupulously polite tones rang out over the hall, thanks to the twins putting a Sonorus charm on the speakers. "Ladies, gentlemen… Purebloods."

That got a laugh.

"I am proud to present to you the very first performance of Robin Hood, the Wizarding World edition, On Ice," JARVIS continued. "Please enjoy the show."

Loki was grinning. Professor McGonagall had raised a single thin eyebrow.

Then the suits began to sing.

_We're men, we're men in tights._

_We roam around the forest looking for fights._

_We're men, we're men in tights._

_We rob from the purebloods and give to the muggles, that's right!_

_We may look like sissies, but watch what you say or else we'll put out your lights!_

_We're men, we're men in tights,_

_Always on guard defending the people's rights._

That got a few laughs, especially when, every now and then, one of them would absently smack one of the others in the face, knocking it over with an almighty crash. All this did was have the armour continue to sing from the floor, gamely kicking it's legs in the dance moves.

What got even bigger laughs was the impromptu can-can.

Suddenly, Professor Snape walked in. He looked somewhat scruffy, as if he'd been waylaid.

The music stopped, and the suits of armour paused, and, as one, turned to stare at Snape. Even the one's on the floor stood up once more.

JARVIS' voice rang out once more. "And now for our special guest star: Professor Severus Snape as the Sheriff of Nottingham."

Before Snape had time to do a single thing, Peeves swooped down behind him and pushed him onto the ice, cackling. As he fell face first onto the ice, he registered four things. One, the suits were staring at him. Two, he now had ice skates instead of shoes. Three, padded barriers had gone up around the ice. Four, Peeves had pinched his wand.

He slowly stood. Then the cry went up from the suits of armour. "GET THE SHERIFF!"

Snape did what any sensible person would do. Get up and skate for his life. To the tune of the Benny Hill theme.

By now, most of the students were in stitches, Hagrid was guffawing loudly, Dumbledore looked amused, Loki was cackling with the best of them, Filch looked vindictively amused and McGonagall was caught halfway between horror and amusement.

As it turned out, Snape was a very quick learner, and he scrambled around the impromptu ice rink at remarkable speed, expression half terrified, half furious, as the suits followed him around in a neat line, always keeping close enough to encourage him to move faster. And occasionally firing sucker arrows, with dubious accuracy.

Finally, they caught him, and, holding the wriggling, humiliated Professor, they neatly skated up to the staff table and faced Loki. Their apparent leader went down on one knee.

"My Lord! We have caught the Sheriff! What shall we do with him?" it asked.

Loki was grinning. "Well done. My brother 'Robin' will be _very_ pleased," he said, glancing over at an amused Harry, an amused but nervous Ron, a scandalised looking Hermione and the grinning Twins. "As for what to do with him, now that _is _an interesting question," he murmured, voice easily carrying. He turned to Professor Dumbledore. "I suggest we pass judgement to the Lord of this place. How find you, sir?"

"I think…" Dumbledore said. "That he should be taken to the Dungeons. He will be more comfortable there. His breakfast can be delivered later." He raised his voice. "But not before Peeves returns his wand."

Peeves, floating high above, swooped down and pouted. "Oh, Headmaster sir, must I?" he whined. "Peeves only wanted to have some fun."

"Fun has been had, Peeves. Wand, please. Quickly now," Dumbledore said firmly.

Sulking, Peeves handed over the wand and floated down to Snape, who sneered at him. "What do you want, you irritating excuse for a ghost?" he asked.

"Just this," Peeves said, and reached out to grab Snape's nose. "GOT YER CONK!" Then he zoomed off, cackling.

Snape shook off the suits of armour and looked as if he ever found out the perpetrators of this act, they would _beg _for something so sweet as having their heart cut out with a spoon. This expression was not helped by the fact that the last one blew a loud raspberry at him, breaking the silence and inspiring another wave of laughter.

He stalked out in silence, and as he got close to the doors, JARVIS broke in with, "Please give a round of applause for the stellar performances from our stars and most particularly our guest star, Professor Severus Snape." Thunderous applause went up and once it died down, JARVIS added, "If you wish to watch again, DVD's and magical photographs will be produced and sold for a reasonable price within three days. All profits go to either St Mungo's Hospital or S.O.A.P, the Society of Accursed Persons. Thank you. Please enjoy what remains of your breakfast and have a Merry Christmas."

* * *

The Avengers (sans Sirius, who had wanted to come, but, it was decided had done enough traveling recently, and was looking a little ill. Also, the warrant for his recapture had not been rescinded) arrived that afternoon, as the school term ended and Snape salvaged his dignity and considered that one, Harry was turning into his father – damn him – and two, the small mercy was that this had happened at the _end _of term, rather than the beginning.

Clint had been planning not to come and to do some Christmas shopping, but strangely, Fury had insisted. So they duly flew over in the Stark Industries jet, and Thor and Loki, the latter of whom having been waiting for them, teleported the rest over – Loki having rectified the mistakes in Thor's teleportation or rather, 'apparition', technique. As he complained, "Teleportation is so _simple!_" Then he shook his head and muttered, "Leave it to humans to screw it up."

This had started a lively debate about the failings of humanity and lack thereof that had lasted up until the castle, whereupon the Avengers were greeted by Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

"Welcome, all of you. The students are just packing, so Harry should be down in a few minutes," Dumbledore said. He then glanced to his right and frowned slightly. Because Professor McGonagall had gone stark white and was staring at Clint, who looked a little unnerved. "Minerva?"

"Albus, Steve! Look at him! Can't you see it?" McGonagall demanded.

"See what?" Albus began, then stopped and said, "Ah… well now. This _is _remarkable."

Steve frowned, stared at Clint, trying to see what they saw, then remembered his first impression of Clint, remembered the only other man he'd ever known with aim anywhere _near _as good as the legendary Hawkeye and remembered a certain unplanned pregnancy on the part of a young witch called Minerva McGonagall by her deceased beau. Then it all fell into place.

"Would you all mind explaining what the hell is going on?" Clint asked. Natasha had a slightly sad, knowing look on her face, and had stepped closer to him in a protective, supporting stance. Loki and Tony were eyeing him with curiousity, Thor had raised his eyebrows at the behaviour of his old Head of House, and Bruce's gaze was taking in all of their faces.

"Clint, during the war, I and the Commandos were stationed here," Steve said quietly. "We struck out at Scandinavian HYDRA bases and used it as a command base for the war against Grindelwald, an extremely powerful and dangerous Dark Lord who had allied with Hitler. And Bucky Barnes, my friend and second in command, fell in love with one of the seventh year students."

Tony's eyes widened and he opened his mouth, then, wisely, closed it. Loki and Bruce slowly nodded their comprehension.

"That student was Minerva McGonagall. She loved him back, and joined the fight after she left school. She was a prodigiously talented witch, and she was a very useful ally. But she was more than that. She became something of a little sister to the rest of the Commandos," Steve continued.

"I and Bucky were planning to marry, after the war," McGonagall said, voice carefully steady, though a few tears were in her eyes. "But he died in combat. They never even found his body." She took a deep breath. "When he died, I was pregnant. I didn't know it until a couple of months later, but it, no, _she_, was undoubtedly his." She bowed her head. "It was 1944. A child born out of wedlock to a woman who was little more than a girl? Scandalous. I wanted to keep the baby, and Albus supported me. But he was overruled by Headmaster Dippet. He claimed that since it was wartime and Hogwarts was such a high profile target, she would be safer elsewhere." She took a deep breath. "So I sent her to some distant relatives in the United States called Hiram and Mary Kent, who lived in Kansas, a town called Smallville, I believe. They raised her alongside their son, Jonathan, when he was born in 1953. I was allowed to give her a name. Edith, I called her. Edith Barnes, though she became Edith Kent. And later still, Edith Barton. I kept an eye on her, but from a distance."

"So why didn't you come and find me and Charlie, when she and dad died and we went into care?" Clint demanded, as the Avengers stared, wide eyed, and him and McGonagall.

"She's dead?" McGonagall whispered, horrified. She looked like she'd just been punched in the stomach by a giant.

"Yeah. Something you'd know, if you'd been keeping an eye on her," Clint said, tone sharp and harsh.

"I lost track of her after a while, and didn't search for her because… she was young, and happily married, though estranged from her adoptive brother. She had her own life. She wasn't noticeably magical, so there was no reason there for our paths to cross," Minerva said quietly, crying in earnest now. It is a hard thing for any parent to know they've outlived their child. An indescribably hard thing. Dumbledore laid a supporting hand on her arm, looking sad. "I didn't think she would want to meet the woman who gave her up."

Clint stared at her for a long moment, then strode off.

McGonagall began to go after him, but Natasha stopped her.

"He needs to be alone right now," she said quietly. "He'll have gone to the tallest tower in the school."

"But how will he find his way around? He can't have been here more than twice!" McGonagall said, worried for her unexpected grandchild. "It is very easy to get lost."

Natasha's face was purposefully smooth, and her tone purposefully calm. "Trust me. He can look after himself. He's been doing so for a very long time."

**YES! COULSON LIVES! But he won't be appearing for a while. Not much, anyway.**

**Ooh, drama! And revelations galore! Who is the mysterious Doctor, one wonders? He's not the one with the TARDIS, I can tell you that. He's from Marvel. And Minerva being Clint's grandmother.**

**Yes, I've been planning this for a little while. It started out as a vague realisation that Bucky and Clint are surprisingly alike in appearance and behaviour, and both are uncannily good marksmen, in Clint's case, superhumanly good – there's no other way to reasonably explain. Then I was perusing Minerva's wiki page and found that she was going to marry a muggle when she was 18, but had to break it off, to her eternal sorrow. Thus, a plot bunny was born. **

**No, Clint isn't a wizard. He has some small magical ability in terms of accuracy and eyesight, but nothing more than that.**

**I know. The prank was mean. So is Snape. People tend to forget that while he is good, he is very definitely not nice. And it was funny. Also, in-universe, aside from Dumbledore, it is very hard to find anyone who is particularly sympathetic to Snape. And yes, the reference to Alan Rickman playing the Sheriff of Nottingham was intentional.**

**Oh, and Kudos to whoever picks up the shout out. I made it really very obvious to anyone looking for it… And yes, it will lead to more.**


	15. Chapter 15: Christmas and Politics

**My god… nearly 1050 reviews. **_**1050**_**. For 14 chapters. You guys are bloody fantastic and I love all of you.**

**I got my results in today, and got the university I wanted, with the equivalent of an A* in English, so that's one considerable weight off my mind and now I can relax totally. Or almost totally, I'll be moving soon.**

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter.**

**Newboy: 1) the thing about Nicodemus is he wouldn't need to put himself in danger. It's noted that he's orchestrated most plagues and major conflicts, or made them worse. He's turned up twice. Both times, he has nearly caused a genuine apocalypse. Besides, the Fallen and their hosts have crazy power magical countermeasures. Easily enough to stop an immobilisation charm. If they know what's coming, you don't have a hope. **

**True, but I would bet on Nicodemus every day of the week in a fight between the two. **

**Professor X could rule the world even more easily. The imperius curse seems to require a constant effort of will to hold in place, whereas any reasonably skilled telepath could insert a series of commands and then let it be. And any reasonably strong willed person can break the Imperius. It's a nasty curse all right, but only **_**really**_** dangerous to the weak willed and those who've never encountered it. That said, the last part makes it very dangerous indeed.**

**Thing is, Rowling's magic is pretty impressive in a one on one situation, but not so impressive on a wider scale. You don't see Professor Dumbledore pulling satellites out of orbit, do you?**

**Oh, and for those who picked up on the Smallville reference, two things: **

**One, DC is not going to be a major element of this universe. There's Krypton (destroyed) and a few characters, like Clark. Also, there will be no Batman. He is awesome, but he comes with too much baggage. It's more like I took a few DC characters and places (e.g. Smallville, Metropolis) and sprinkled them in the Marvel setting.**

**Two, my fancast for Harry is Tom Welling. This will be noted. **

**2) Voldemort is not a major threat. Yet. That being the key word.**

Following the startling revelations of Clint's ancestry, the Avengers split up. Thor, after comforting his bereaved former teacher somewhat and leaving her in the capable hands of Professor Dumbledore, who whisked her off to his office for a much needed cup of tea, decided to take another opportunity to wander the halls of Hogwarts. He wasn't expecting anyone else to be around, let alone someone below eye lever, so therefore he was in for something of a surprise.

Thor looked down as something or rather, someone, who was rather small walked into him. He looked down to see a smallish male Gryffindor student looking back up at him, looking slightly frightened and quite nervous. "Oh, I'm sorry Mr, um, Thor sir, I didn't mean," he began.

"No harm done," Thor said, then looked closely at him. "Neville?" he asked, then nodded decisively. "Frank and Alice's boy," he said. "I would recognise that face anywhere."

"You knew them, sir?"

"Please, at most, call me Mr Potter. Or Thor, or James. I answer to most things short of Fido, or so it seems these days," Thor said dryly.

"Yes, Mister Potter," Neville said, still a little nervous.

"I did, and I've heard about you from my son," Thor continued. Neville gulped. "And," Thor said, in his best reassuring fatherly voice. "From what I have heard, your mother and father must be so very proud of you." He looked closely at Neville. "You are the spitting image of your mother, you know. But I can see Frank in you, too."

"I… I don't know if they are or not," Neville said, voice small, and Thor's heart sank, while he inwardly wondered how this child of two his warmest, bravest and most confident friends had become such a shrinking violet. Augusta Longbottom, he decided, had much to answer for.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know. When did they… if I may ask?" he asked quietly.

"They're not dead."

Thor frowned and gave a look that said he wanted him to elaborate.

"Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange and Barty Crouch Junior tortured them into insanity," Neville said, voice very small now. "They're in the permanent spell damage ward. Sometimes… sometimes I think they know who I am. Sometimes…" he trailed off, shrugging.

Thor laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I will visit them after Christmas, and ask my brother to investigate their case. The best healers in this world and in the Nine Realms will be set to putting this wrong right," he said seriously. He frowned. "I must talk to Augusta, she should have spoken to me about this."

"No!"

Thor raised as an eyebrow as Neville coloured under his scrutiny, partly in embarrassment at his sudden outburst. "Oh?"

It took Neville a few moments to gather his courage, but he was not a Gryffindor for no reason.

"Don't, Mr Potter, please. Not before Christmas. She gets upset when someone brings up my parents. She doesn't show it, and she doesn't think I know, but she does. She takes me for visits, but I can see it hurts her. And… she's my gran," Neville pleaded. "I want my parents back, but…"

"You want a happy Christmas. I understand," Thor said gently. His expression hardened slightly. "Though I will bring it up with her soon. But not yet."

"Thank you, Mr Potter. I've got to go," Neville said, relieved, and began to run off. After he got about ten metres, he turned and called back, "Oh, and, Merry Christmas!"

Then he ran off.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Neville," Thor called after him, and smiled. Harry was right. There was definitely more to Neville than met the eye. And he could only say that he approved.

OoOoO

"You feeling lonely?"

Remus smiled slightly as he heard the familiar tones of Bruce Banner. "Not too much," he said. "But I wouldn't object to the company of a friend. After all, I do not have that many."

Bruce smiled sadly. "Yeah, I can understand that."

There was a brief silence.

"How's Sirius?"

"Adjusting to freedom. The nightmares are fading and he's getting healthier. He's also hitting on anything female in sight," Bruce said dryly.

"So, normal service has been restored, then," Remus said, tones hinting at profound relief.

"From what Thor says, pretty much. You'd have to ask him for the full comparative analysis, but from what I can tell, he's doing fine," Bruce said, and shuddered slightly. "I wouldn't like to imagine what it would be like in a prison for something you didn't do with those _things _around you twenty four hours a day." He half smiled. "Well, if it was me, the Other Guy, the Hulk, would probably make an appearance."

"And I suspect Azkaban would not last all that long," Remus murmured.

"Nor would most of the inmates," Bruce said grimly.

Remus gave him a surprised look.

"If it's a forced transformation, I don't have any control over it. The Hulk doesn't go out of his way to kill people, unless they're trying to hurt him, but… collateral damage," Bruce said quietly. "He's like a big toddler having a tantrum in some ways and… toddlers don't tend to care about what they're damaging." He shuddered slightly. "I remember flashes. Not as much as when I'm in control, then I remember practically everything, but the flashes… in some ways it's more horrifying than seeing the whole thing. Because your imagination fills in the gaps."

Remus thought back to his transformations without Wolfsbane, some of them very recent, and shuddered too. He could relate to that. He remembered most of what happened, or at least, the key incidents. And before each There was always that nagging fear that the precautions might not be enough, that he might get out and hurt someone… but he could say this for his condition: one, it was on a timer. He knew when it was going to start and when it was going to end. Bruce could 'Hulk out' at any time if placed under enough stress. Two, he could restrain the wolf in places like the Shrieking Shack. As Bruce himself had stated, there was no known way of restraining the Hulk if he didn't want to be restrained.

Bruce caught his sympathetic look and shrugged. "I manage."

"How?"

"What's the alternative?"

Remus didn't have an answer to that.

OoOoO

Natasha followed Clint up to the Astronomy Tower. She had no doubt he would go here. It was the tallest place in the castle, and Clint – paradoxically – felt safer and more comfortable the higher up he was. It was something that Tony, being a surprisingly observant personality, had catered for by giving him the floor just below the Penthouse, with numerous perches for Clint to use. On the other hand, that could have been Pepper's influence. Natasha honestly liked the other woman. She was warm, funny, kind, patient, extremely clever and it wasn't exactly easy to pull a fast one on her. Plus she practically had Tony on a leash, and knew exactly when to give it a gentle tug.

Whatever it was, she could see that Clint felt a lot more comfortable at the Tower than he did in most other places. It had, in part, become his lair. It had become something for all of them, really. For Clint, it was his lair, for her, it was an unprecedented home base, secure, safe, and comforting, for Loki, it was his touchstone to planet Earth and, she suspected, a permanent reminder of what he had been, so he didn't go down that path. No matter how much he pretended otherwise, the beast had been reformed, not tamed, and the only differences between then and now was that he was sane and cared for those close to him. The capacity for ruthlessness, cruelty, and what some would call outright evil, remained, locked up until it was needed. Natasha could see it as clearly as the nose on her face. It took one to know one, after all.

Thor seemed to see the Tower as almost a home away from home, particularly since he and Harry had found each other again. Harry himself regarded the Tower in similar fashion, though his loyalty was to his first love – Hogwarts. She wondered what he would make of Asgard. He'd probably be totally overwhelmed. Harry Potter struck her as a boy who was fond of simple comforts and grew a little uncomfortable at anything ostentatious and grand.

Sure, he stayed and got on with one of the richest men on Earth, but said man was more usually seen in oily rags or a Black Sabbath t-shirt than any financial status symbol. And the Tower itself was quite easy to dismiss from Harry's point of view when you considered that one, Harry had only really seen a few levels of it, two, he lived in a castle. He was _used _to large buildings.

Bruce really had nowhere else to go – the Army was still sniffing around him, for one, and they weren't alone – and he knew it. But he put a brave face on things, and seemed to honestly enjoy the strange, almost familial dynamics of the Avengers. He even put up with Tony and his 'LETS DO SCIENCE AND BLOW THINGS UP IT'S FUN'. She'd once asked why he spent so much time with the member of the Initiative who inspired the strongest feelings, and therefore that which fuelled his transformations.

He'd said, totally deadpan, that it was training. If he could put up with Tony, he could put up with anyone.

Tony, who had been in hearing distance, had spluttered indignantly.

While she had her reservations about the Hulk, she honestly liked Bruce, putting him on a very short list that she'd made in her very long life.

She liked the Tower because it was the first place in her entire life, all eight decades or so of it, that felt like a home. She wasn't one for emotional attachments, with a few rare exceptions, and they were invariably to people, not places. The Tower was different. The residential quarters were almost always alive. Tony was usually arguing with someone, making a wise crack or coming up with some insane idea, Bruce was usually mediating, Steve argued with Tony and talked to Thor, the two being very much alike. Thor was – or at least, until recently, when he had started acting more in line with twentieth century human norms, under the influence of his rediscovered memories and had moderated his behaviour a little – been loud, warm, all encompassing and vibrant, like a summer storm in trousers. Which, technically, he was. Or sometimes out of them. Thor, while not a nudist, was not exactly self conscious. Clint usually ended up dropping a wisecrack of his own in and bickering with Tony about films and bands, Loki carefully keeping the argument bubbling with the odd well placed comment, while Pepper controlled the whole lot of them with kindness, warmth and a will that made adamantium look flimsy and soft.

By this time, she was standing next to him, in silence, splaying her fingers on the battlements as she settled into a comfortable position. He didn't usually need prompting to speak, and when he did, she knew, as he did for her. She would wait.

It didn't take long, as it turned out.

"I know its not her fault. It was a different time and must have been really hard for her," he said abruptly. "But I can't help but feel…"

"Betrayed."

Like he did for her, she always knew the perfect word he was looking for.

"Yeah, betrayed," he agreed. "Would it have killed her to look?"

"Yes."

He looked at her in question. She elaborated.

"Clint, your grandmother is eighty years old. I'm not much younger," Natasha said. This wasn't an earthshaking revelation to Clint. He knew about the Infinity Formula. He even knew where it came from. Who it came from. One thing she liked about him was that he hadn't treated her differently after he found out, as most had. Even Alexei had been disturbed at first, she remembered. He'd just treated her the way he always had. As his partner and his friend.

"She looks in her fifties at most, well preserved at that. She's known her whole life she was going to outlive anyone non-magical by a very long way. When she fell in love with your grandfather, she knew that he would probably die while she was in her prime, even if they survived the war." She looked at him. "I know how much that hurts. When your mother proved not to be magical – or at least, not in the conventional sense," she added. Clint's eyesight and aim was too good, too natural to be baseline human. His reflexes were only just in human ranges.

"She knew that she would almost certainly outlive her daughter, who was busy making a good, happy life for herself a long way away in a rich and peaceful land. She thought her daughter was going to be happy, and was going to be content with that." She looked out over the cold, dark Forbidden Forest, listening to the cry of a hunting hawk and watching the winter mists, still present in the weak, runny egg coloured sun that spent most of its time hiding sheepishly behind the clouds.

"Why?"

"Because if she got too close it would hurt too much," Natasha said quietly. She glanced down as she felt a soft touch on her pinky finger. Unaware, Clint's pinky had laid itself over hers, his arms having unfolded and he having mimicked her stance as he spoke. "And it would be cruel to your mother to show her a world full of what she couldn't have when she was happy without it." She looked at Clint. "She may have done the wrong thing twice, Clint, but it was a different time. And she acted partly out of fear, fear of censure, fear of pain, but mostly out of love. She can't be expected to have known what was going to happen. If she had, she'd have come for you, because she cares for you."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Parents love their children and grandchildren, I'm not blind to that," she said evenly. "Romantic love is a different story."

He grunted in a non-commital fashion.

"It still pisses me off," he said. "I mean, why…" he trailed off and sighed. "I know." He laid his hand properly over hers and squeezed gently. If he had been any other man, he would have lost the hand. But he wasn't. "Thanks, Nat."

She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.

OoOoO

"What are you doing?"

Tony turned, and saw a pale, greasy looking man of above average height looking at him with an expression of disdain. Though there was every chance, Tony thought, that the grease had set in and glued it in that position. Sort of like botox, but external, free, smelly and vaguely flammable. Hmm, he might look into that. The Avengers ran into basement dwelling mad scientist types all the time, and it might be easier just to get Loki to set them on fire.

Or, you know, he could offer them some of that new line from L'Oreal, a haircare company that Thor was the face of, which was called Th'Oreal. The tag line went, 'Because he's worth it. And so are you'. The commercial had featured a tactfully obscured but clearly naked Thor slowly and utterly unselfconsciously washing his hair in a shower. The sales had immediately gone through the roof, the company's stock price soared and Thor's already vaguely rabid fans had tripled in number and obsessiveness.

Which, to Tony's mind, proved that all you need to sell things was Avengers. Preferably at least half naked. His suggestions for himself, Clint, Loki and Bruce to model suits for Gieves and Hawkes, Thor, Loki, Steve and Clint to do a shoot for Calvin Klein, Natasha, Jane, Darcy and Pepper to do a shoot for Victoria's Secret, Bruce to advertise for Gillette and the whole team plus Jane, Pepper and Darcy to do a swimsuit calendar had mostly been shot down. Steve had been mortified, Clint, Thor and Loki hadn't really cared either way about stripping down, due to super spies not really having time for modesty and Asgardian social norms and had, in Loki's case, rather liked the idea about the suits. Loki liked being sharply dressed at all times, and had been noted as 'the best dressed Avenger'.

Bruce had just shaken his head in exasperated amusement and said, "No to all of the above, Tony."

Natasha wasn't bothered about stripping down for the same reason as Clint, and her photos as Natalie Rushman had not come out of nowhere. SHIELD believed in thorough covers. _Very _thorough covers. Darcy thought it would be cool, Jane had stammered and said she wasn't model pretty and too slim anyway, even if she'd wanted to – which she honestly didn't, a decision Thor respected to the approval of all. He had added that there would have been no shame in her showing off her strength and beauty, both of which she possessed to far greater extent than these 'supposed most beauteous maidens' and he, Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder and Lightning (not Reason and Understanding), would smite anyone who dared suggest otherwise.

Once this was filtered through the Avengers' personal Asgardian Gibberish to Modern English translator (otherwise known as Loki) it was generally understood to mean, 'You're hotter than any model and I'll beat the shit out of anyone who says otherwise', but more romantic.

In the end, the Gieves and Hawkes thing went through, the girls modelled for the latest line from Janet Van Dyne, who one of the few exes he had who got on with him. Like a house on fire, as a matter of fact, to the vague discomfort of Hank Pym, her current boyfriend. And they had done so quite happily, as it didn't involve anything they weren't comfortable with. Janet had always been a proponent of natural beauty, fully clothed too. She said that the wrapper was sometimes just as much fun as the present. The trick, she added, was to help it compliment the metaphorical present rather than overwhelm or underwhelm it. That made the unwrapping all the more fun. Fury squelched the underwear modelling.

"Have you gone deaf?" the man demanded.

"No," Tony said, collecting himself. "I just didn't consider that a question worth answering."

It was worth it, he judged, from the way the guy went a nasty shade of puce. "I am a Professor at this school," the man said, and Tony suddenly realised who he looked like.

"Well, _Professor_ Gruber, I don't really give a shit," Tony said bluntly, continuing with what he was doing. Which was sticking a modem that connected to JARVIS' true self in the Tower and had been charmed by Loki to be indestructible to the wall, then tuning him in to Hogwarts' 'frequency'. That wasn't exactly what he was doing, but the full process was both experimental and incomprehensible to anyone of non-genius IQ and extensive experience in physics and mysticism. Or at least, a working knowledge of the fundamental principles of both, from which more can be extracted. "Go and find some defenceless tourists to take hostage, I'm busy," he added.

"Do you know who I am?" the man he had dubbed Professor Gruber demanded.

"No, and," Tony said, carefully calibrating the modem and not even bothering to turn his head. "I don't really care."

"You arrogant little muggle," the man snarled, drawing his wand. "State your business at once."

"I'm thinking no. You see, you know I'm allowed to be here and that I'm not doing anything dangerous, because if you didn't, you'd be using the magic compensator on me. You just want to show me who's boss," Tony continued. He flashed an insincere smile at the man before finishing off. "Not gonna work." He suddenly said, "Hey, JARVIS, how's the new digs?"

"Most pleasant, sir. Thank you for doing this for me, sir. It is very kind."

"Eh, you put up with my hook ups all those years. Least I can do is return the favour," Tony said casually, patting the box. "Don't stay up too late, big guy."

"Indeed not, sir. I wouldn't want you to share too many of my experiences," the AI responded dryly.

Tony shook his head. "One of these days, I am removing your sarcasm circuits," he vowed half heartedly, and turned to go. He caught Professor Gruber's dumbfounded expression. "What?"

"You have a spirit trapped in there?" he asked incredulously.

Tony stared at him, then shook his head. "And I thought American public schools were bad," he muttered disbelievingly and moving to go.

The man flushed and snarled, "You will explain this to me, muggle. _Now._"

"Is that even a word? 'Muggle'? Really? And yeah, no, not interested. One, a please wouldn't have hurt, and two, I can just tell it's gonna be a boring conversation and I have no time for boring and stupid people," Tony said derisively, trotting around the corner and not even breaking step."Bye!"

The man who now had yet another vaguely insulting nickname was left fuming behind him. It was a rare man or woman that Severus Snape could not intimidate or bully. Unfortunately for him, Tony was one of them.

OoOoO

Minerva was drinking a cup of tea, thoughtfully provided by the House Elves, and a ginger biscuit, mulling over the fact that her daughter was dead and her grandson not unjustly blamed her.

Minerva turned, to see her newly discovered grandson standing by the door.

"I'm still pissed off," he said bluntly, in what she recognised as a carefully generic Midwestern American accent – designed to blend in, much like the rest of him. "But I can understand. I did some dumb things at eighteen too, and for much less reason. I can understand getting into trouble. And I can understand being young and scared and not knowing where to turn." He shrugged. "So, for what it's worth, you're forgiven."

Once, she would have responded with a snappy comment. Now, she merely smiled. "Thank you," she said, and gave him a mock severe look. "I trust you are well behaved in front of Harry?"

He blinked in surprise.

"I will tolerate no swearing or behaviour that might corrupt one of my students, even when he is out of my care," she said.

He caught the twinkle in her eye, and responded, "He lives with Loki and Tony. That horse left the stable as soon as he met them."

"I feared as much," she said dryly. "Mister Stark is…"

"Infectious?" he suggested.

"I was going to say insidious, but the effect is much the same," she replied.

She smile and he responded with a quick grin. Her breath caught. For a moment, just one, single, heartbreaking moment, he looked the very image of Bucky.

"Are you okay?"

She blinked and noticed that her eyes were watering. Briskly wiping them, she nodded. "Yes, it's just that for a moment…"

"I looked just like him?"

Minerva looked at him in surprise and he half smiled. "I read people. I'm not half as good as Nat, but I'm good enough," he explained.

"Yes… speaking of Agent Romanov, are you two courting?" she inquired. "As your grandmother I feel that I should know."

Clint's expression of complete shock was hilarious. He clearly hadn't seen this coming. Minerva wished she'd brought a camera. Then again, she mused idly, there were always pensieves.

He recovered and shook his head. "No. Me and Nat are close but our jobs won't allow it."

"I fail to see how being a hero would impede you from romance," Minerva said. "Mister Stark and my own former student, James, or rather, Thor, seem to manage well enough."

Clint grimaced. "We're not just heroes. We're assassins and spies and in the community we work in… our names are well known. If it came out that we were more than just partners, the results would not be pretty."

"I would not have thought that was a bar to enjoying oneself. Many couples come together in times of danger and war. Just look at Harry, he's the product of such a union. Indeed, you are the second generation of another," Minerva retorted. Clint looked contemplative.

"There's a lot to think about," he said. "We couldn't do casual, and…"

"You might not want to bring a child into such a world?" Minerva said.

Clint stared at her in surprise, then smiled. "Looks like sharp eyes run in the family," he said dryly. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Grandma."

Both of them were silent for a long moment, then Minerva smiled, warmly and slightly damply. "Indeed, grandson. Indeed." She coughed. "Well, I will not presume to dictate to either of you what you must and must not do, but I would suggest it. She is fond of you in a sense that, though I am no master spy, I am well able to recognise."

Clint looked, surprisingly enough, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, well," he said, then left the subject. "I just wanted to say… Merry Christmas. Grandma."

"Merry Christmas. Grandson."

They stared at each for a long moment, then, hugged briefly.

Even assassins know that family is important.

OoOoO

Harry was, predictably, very excited to be going on a full holiday with _his _family for the very first time – the Dursleys very emphatically did not count – and being a teenage boy, equally tried not to show it too much in front of his friends, only hugging his father and uncle briefly and greeting the others cheerfully, but with restraint.

Darcy, of course, decided to hug him anyway, smooshing his face into her impressive cleavage, to his embarrassment and the general envy of every heterosexual male, bisexual and lesbian in sight, while saying, "Heya kid. How you doing?"

The reply had mostly been muffled and Tony had said, impressed, "Second base already. I'm impressed, kiddo."

Pepper had smacked him for that.

Soon enough, Loki had teleported Harry's full trunk to the Stark Industries jet, and the group were chatting and about to leave, when Professor Dumbledore came out at some speed, calling for Thor, who stopped and told the others to go on. Then, he waited for Dumbledore.

"Ah, James. I'm glad I caught you," Dumbledore said, when he got in earshot. He looked a little grim.

"What is it, Albus?"

"The Ministry has found out that you have found Sirius and he is now living in Avengers Tower. Cornelius Fudge is requesting that he be returned to Ministry custody," Albus said.

"Why? He has committed no crime," Thor said, puzzled and suddenly rather annoyed.

"I know that. You know that. And somewhere underneath the his ambition, so does Cornelius Fudge. Unfortunately, the Ministry has grown very used to vilifying Sirius and Cornelius has always had one fatal flaw, even when he was a student," Albus said. "He can never accept that he was wrong. To him, such a climbdown would be a sign of weakness."

Thor's eyes narrowed. He drew his wand and muttered a couple of words. Then, with his newly conjured – and inked – quill, he wrote on the parchment – which he'd flattened against a wall, he wrote a note, signing it viciously and folding it up.

"Send it with one of the school owls," he growled.

"I take it that this is your reply?" Albus said.

Thor nodded. "Merry Christmas, Albus," he said, slightly gruff after the news.

"Merry Christmas, James, and to Sirius too," Albus called, as Thor went to join his son and the rest, getting an acknowledging wave.

Then, Albus, being unashamedly nosy, opened the note. "Oh my," he murmured, then smiled slightly.

The note was short and to the point. It's exact words were as follows:

_Fudge, _

_Fuck off and die._

_- Thor _

True to his word, he sent it, with an apologetic note attached saying that Thor was not the most diplomatic of personalities.

Fudge was not pleased, and flooed over the next day to make that very clear.

"Dumbledore, this is unacceptable! The public is demanding Black's head!" he cried shrilly.

"Only because they are not in possession of the facts, Cornelius," Albus replied. His eyes narrowed. "Including the interesting little fact that Sirius Black didn't get a trial."

"Well, his guilt was obvious, and anyway Dumbledore, it was before my time," Fudge said, suddenly aware that he was on thin ice. And it was creaking. "Besides," he said, an idea occurring to him. "He must be tried for the crimes he has committed."

"Allegedly committed."

"I'm sorry?"

"Allegedly committed. There is supposed to be a presumption of innocence, Cornelius."

"Yes, yes," Fudge said, waving it away. "My point is that the innocent have nothing to fear."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "I think Mister Black would disagree," he said dryly. "Quite strenuously."

Fudge changed tack. "Dumbledore," he said, putting a forcibly reasonable tone. "I feel that I have been very patient with Thor – James Potter as was – and more than fair. I have not contested his reclamation of custody of his son or his reclamation of the Potter vaults, and have done nothing but help him."

"On what grounds you would have done so, I have no idea," Dumbledore said lightly. "Since he had a strong claim to both." He smiled. "In fact, this brings to mind an old joke about the seating arrangements of a man who was locked in the form of a 300 pound orang-utan and found he liked the experience, made by a very talented muggle author. Sherbet Lemon?"

"No, thank you," Cornelius said stiffly. "What are you talking about, Dumbledore? How is this relevant?"

Dumbledore suddenly looked very grave. "Because, Cornelius, as a sentient 300 pound orang-utan sits where he wishes, a Norse deity does what he likes. Indeed, Cornelius, I think you'll find that you merely did not hinder him, and a very wise decision that was."

"Are you saying that I should lie down and let him walk all over I and the Ministry because he is powerful?" Fudge demanded.

Dumbledore had to strongly resist the temptation to point out that he saw no reason why not, as that was what Fudge did best, and after all, why break the habit of a lifetime?

He frowned inwardly. He was not normally prone to sarcasm, despite the amount of abrasive personalities he'd come into contact with, including Gellert, Bucky, Howard Stark and Severus Snape. This was most unusual, and bore further investigation. For now, he filed the thought away. He would, on later reflection, do the sensible thing: blame Tony Stark.

"I am saying, Cornelius, that if you fight him, you will lose," Dumbledore said. "Even if you do not believe the old histories, there is a wealth of evidence that says his raw power is far beyond that of any wizard, even the Sorcerer Supreme." Inwardly, he thought that the Stephen Strange he knew would wipe the floor with Thor, even if he was less powerful than the God of Thunder. Power was not everything. He looked Fudge in the eyes.

"I am sure that Thor, or James, whichever, can be persuaded to see reason," Fudge said, and there was an ugly little undertone that Dumbledore did not like.

"If you cross wands with him, I can guarantee that you will cross metaphorical wands with the rest of the Avengers. Particularly Loki," Dumbledore said, before giving Fudge a sharp look. "And I am sure you do not want to stir up turmoil that Harry will get caught up in, _will you_, Cornelius?"

Fudge blanched. He may be corrupt and spineless, with sympathies in line with the more respectable pro Pureblood factions, but he was not stupid. Indeed, he was smart enough to recognise the double edged threat – if he made an enemy of Thor, he made an enemy of the Boy-Who-Lived, adding political suicide to actual suicide.

And, interestingly enough, if Fudge made an enemy of Harry, then he made an enemy of his headmaster, who, though he was not as powerful as Thor or Loki, had a certain advantage. He was there, and they weren't.

Dumbledore had flaws. He acknowledged them, and quietly lamented what they had cost him. But whatever could be said about him – and there was a lot to be said - he did not tolerate _anyone_ hurting his students by word or deed.

"Well, I think that the Black case is not an immediate issue for the Ministry to deal with," Fudge said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, recognising a retreat when he saw one and being gracious in victory. "May I ask after your nephew? Such a promising boy, I hear he's an auror now."

Fudge nodded, momentarily distracted. "Yes, he is well," he said. "Working his way up the ladder, like we all did once upon a time, eh?" he ventured with a nervous laugh.

Dumbledore smiled in his usual grandfatherly, refraining from saying that unlike Fudge and his ilk, he hadn't paid for a hand up on the way. "Quite," he said, rising. "Now, Cornelius, I have business to attend to." Namely, communing with the castle. Apparently she has taken a shine to Mister Stark's artificial intelligence, JARVIS, whose creator had set up what he called 'a modem' to allow the two to communicate, and he would rather appreciate being filled in on this, largely because it would be a little embarrassing if the deepest and darkest secrets of Hogwarts were revealed during… pillow talk.

And then, because he could not resist the impulse this time and the orang-utan reference had put him in the mood, he added, tone mild as milk, "Now, Cornelius. Do not let me detain you."

Dumbledore was fond of words. Particularly the way they could mean two things at the same time.

Phineas Nigellus let out a dark chuckle, but said nothing.

Fudge's eyes widened slightly at this, he frowned just a little in puzzlement, then left the same way he came, by floo, without another word.

"Merry Christmas indeed," Dumbledore murmured. "But in some circles, peace on earth and goodwill to all men maybe in short supply."

Fawkes chirruped his agreement.

Of course, Dumbledore thought, there were some circles that would make very sure that there was peace on Earth. And in those circles, there would be no shortage of goodwill, at least, towards those within the circle.

**Okay, so this part is stretching on a little longer than I thought, and it wasn't as Harry centric as I planned, but the next few should be. **

**And yes, I was referencing the Librarian of the Unseen University and a certain other Discworld character.**

**Please make me smile and review.**


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